#we can barely say parts we have to say realities

[joelmillerisapunk]

Beach Daddy V. Stay

daddy!joel miller x f!reader

series masterlist • masterlist

wordcount: 15,628

summary: You find yourself caught in a whirlwind of passion and scandal with Joel, while a mysterious blackmailer threatens to expose your secret romance. And other drama.

warnings: 18+, age gap, just the tip unprotected 👀, dramaaaa, sweet bby Reggie 😘

notes: But that gif (from pinterest tysm to Whomever the Creator is) is exactly how Joel looks when he steps out of his car, searching. ty @saradika-graphics as always for the divider

Standing in his bedroom, after your confession to him about Todd being your ex, Joel kisses you.

He's gentle at first. Then, before you know it, you're locked together, his tongue gently teasing you to open your mouth until your lips part, and he pushes between your lips with an urgency that has your skin tingling and your core lighting on fire. His fingers set the skin of your cheek ablaze.

Your heart drums in your chest at the anticipation in the air at your closeness. You are so close that you can almost feel the sharp edges of his stubble that has dusted his face as the day grows to a close. Releasing your lips, he whispers, “I can't imagine not knowing you, darlin'.” His breath is warm against your lips. The small vibrations send waves of energy through your entire body. Goosebumps prickle your arms. The sweet smell of cinnamon on his breath, and his sandalwood cologne, mingle perfectly together.

The sensation is too much for you to bear, so you close your eyes, letting Joel take over, as you try desperately to etch every second of the moment into your memory. “I can't imagine not knowing you either, Joel,” you say breathlessly, your eyelashes fluttering with anticipation.

He presses his lips softly to yours, the heat of your lips combining. The warmth spreads through your entire body, even to your bare feet against the cold tile floor. As softly as it started, you want to feel the pressure of his strong arms around you, crushing you against his muscled torso. You lean into Joel's chest, his muscles so tight they are unmoving. He responds to you by sliding his hand up your back and pressing you to him. His lips match the sudden intensity, and you part yours, and he pulls your bottom lip between his. You hold back a moan as he softly bites your bottom lip, but you can't help your hand making their way into Joel's hair. As your fingers slip through the softness of his perfectly styled locks, the scent of sandalwood intensifies.

Before you can register the change, Joel's hand, which had started out on the side of your face, is cradling under your butt, and Joel pulls you even closer to him. You feel the thumping of his chest as your body rests against his, and you deepen your kiss. You can feel the hardness of him between your legs and pull yourself closer, unable to keep your body from satisfying your craving for him.

Time feels as though it stands still as Joel holds you to him, your hands lost in his hair. Just as quickly as it had all started, the moment shatters. His cell phone beeping is deafening against the silence of the room and breaks you out of your entangled trance. Your feet hit the floor, the cold tile shocking you back to reality. You both stand there for a moment, breathing hard, your hearts racing as you try to come back to reality.

“Darlin', I am so sorry. I lost control of myself for a second,” Joel says. 

You wish he'd lose control more often.

You touch your hand to your mouth, where his lips had just been. You ache at the absence of him. He runs his hands through his already mussed hair and takes a few steps back from you. “That's okay,” you say, trying desperately to catch your breath. It takes all you have not to run back into his arms. Doesn't he sense that the feeling is mutual? You want him just as badly as he wants you. Maybe more so.

“Let me turn this off so we can talk-” Joel's face falls as he takes his phone from his pocket and reads the text message on the screen.

“Is everything okay?” you ask, watching the worry lines reappear between Joel's eyebrows.

“I’m so sorry. I have to deal with this,” he says, swiping his finger across the screen.

“I will leave you to it,” you say, walking toward the door. You need to be alone to understand what has just happened between you anyway.

What have you just done with your friend's dad?

“We will talk about this, about us, I promise,” Joel says, looking longingly into your eyes before turning back to his phone. “Bruce, what did you find out?” Joel says into the phone. That is your cue to leave.

You silently pick up your shoes next to the door and slip out into the hallway. You close the door softly, silently clicking the latch into place. You lean against Joel's door, listening to his muffled voice as he talks on the phone. Even through the door, you can tell that whatever the news is, it isn't good. Laughter sounds at the opposite end of the hall. Knowing what it would look like to come out of Joel's room, shoes in hand, you retreat away from his room and the approaching voices. The last thing you need is for Sarah to think you have slept with her father. 

Your feet patter against the marble flooring in the hallway. You consider going back to your room, but you know you won't be able to sleep after the kisses you've just shared with Joel. You feel like you need to make an appearance back at the party before Sarah notices your absence at the same time that her father is gone. However, you can't seem to catch your breath, so you walk as slowly as possible back to the kitchen. You stand for a long time, watching people laughing, dancing, and raising their drinks in silent speeches you can't hear. Your mind is still too caught up in what has happened with Joel.

Eventually, you open one of the kitchen doors to the back patio, and the engagement party is still in full swing. Clearly, no one has noticed Joel and you heading into the house together. You are thankful for that, at least. You should've known you wouldn't be missed by this crowd. You spot Todd with Sarah and make sure you are out of their eyesight quickly. You grab a glass of champagne and lean against the wall by the pool looking out at the ocean. It feels like you can still feel the tingle of Joel's lips against yours. You feel good, despite the toxic situation with Todd. Joel is clearly as attracted to you as you are to him. You replay your kiss over and over in your mind. You still can't believe it's happened. Finally.

But then, what does this all mean? You still have so many questions…

You finish your drink and set the empty glass on a table, turning to walk toward the kitchen when you hear someone yell.

“Cannonball!”

A man with long brown hair splashes into the infinity pool, soaking you in the process. You watch the ripples disturb the surface of the pool and water spill out the edges. You leave quickly, before the man reemerges and retreat back inside as a wave of laughter hits your back.

“Is this whole trip taking every opportunity to slap me in the face?” you mumble to yourself, taking off your heels again as you head for the stairs. You leave a dripping trail of water all the way to your room. You can't help but remember walking into AmoreBelle in a similar state when Joel had bought you the dress in the first place.

You hang your cocktail dress to dry in the shower, hoping that it isn't ruined. Maybe you will send it to the dry cleaners when you return to New York. You have no idea how to care for a dress so nice. You know if you try to clean it yourself, you are sure to ruin it.  The smell of chlorine that clings to your skin nudges you toward the pedestal bathtub at the far end of the bathroom. You turn on the tap and let the steam from the hot water fill the room. You grab a glass of water and turn on some music. Slipping inside the warm embrace of the water, you are instantly taken back to the heat of Joel's body pressed to yours. Your lips press delicately against his. The feel of your body wound tightly around his. The way he smelled. He was intoxicating. You can't believe you've just kissed Joel. You've thought about it a few dozen times, always talking yourself out of it because he is your friend's father, but no amount of imagination could compare to those few blissful minutes. He was so much more than you'd imagined.

A text flashes on your phone, which you've set on a towel next to the tub. You dry your hands and pick up your phone to find a text from Lin waiting for you.

Lin: There was a last-minute cancellation on a flight out tomorrow. Do you want us to change your booking for you? I can still meet you at the airport to pick you up. Let us know ASAP.

This afternoon you would have texted Lin back instantly, begging for her to get you on the soonest flight out of here. However, that was before your shared moment with Joel. Even with Todd being here and constantly trying to get you to sleep with him, you don't know if you want to leave. “What would he think if I jetted off the day after we kissed?” you ask the ceiling of the bathroom.

You sink lower, covering half of your face in the warm water. The water has completely cooled when you've finally made up your mind. You drain it out of the tub, and with pruny fingers, type out a response to Lin.

You: I need one more day. Something big happened. I will explain everything when I get back. See you in two days.

You can't leave yet. You've just let Joel know how much he's come to mean to you. How can you leave now? You've wanted this for longer than you've let yourself admit. You've wanted this since the first time you saw him. You have to see Joel one more time before you leave. If you leave now, you'll never know what might happen between you. You're not willing to risk that, not to escape Todd or Sarah's wealthy friends. You have to talk to Joel; you have to know what this is.

"Bruce. What did you find out?" Joel asks the head of his security team, his voice betraying none of the turmoil he feels inside.

"We have reason to believe that Blaine knows your current location in the Bahamas, sir," Bruce's voice echoes on the other end of the phone.

Joel looks up when the door clicks shut; you've slipped away during his eagerness to call Bruce. He feels like a complete ass. He kissed you, and then, mere seconds later, he was on the phone, his attention elsewhere.

"Sir?" Bruce's voice pulls Joel back to the present.

"I'm sorry, Bruce. What did you say?"

"We are worried about your security measures in the Bahamas. You have no one with you from the team. Please tell me you have been activating the security system we had installed."

Joel has completely forgotten about the security system in the rush of preparing for Sarah's engagement party. He'll have to remember to set that after they get off the phone.

"How do you know that Blaine knows where we are?" Joel asks, his mind already racing with the implications.

Seconds later, his phone buzzes against his ear. Joel puts Bruce on speaker so that he can read the incoming messages. He's sent him multiple screenshots of Sarah's social media pages. There are at least ten posts in the last three days, all pictures of her on the beach or lounging out on the yacht. In the last message is a picture of the Bahama beach house with the caption "Engagement Party at Daddy's!"

"Shit," Joel mutters under his breath.

"She has been documenting her every move, and in turn, documenting yours as well."

"I should have known she would be posting. She never stops."

"It would be wise, sir, to advise your daughter to stop posting, at least for the time being."

"That, unfortunately, won’t happen. Sarah has made social media her career. She will never agree to stop posting."

"Even if it is putting you and your entire family at risk?"

"She doesn't know about Blaine, and it's going to stay that way," Joel says bluntly.

"Of course, sir."

"What do you suggest I do?" Joel asks, his mind already half-focused on finding you.

"Is it possible to head to a new destination? We may have caught this early enough that you can leave before Blaine finds a way to get to the Bahamas."

"I’ll see what I can do. I likely won't be able to make that kind of arrangement, though. I have a house full of guests at the moment."

"I understand, sir. Should I send a few members of my team to you?"

"I really don't think that is necessary," Joel says, hating the idea of having any of his bodyguards follow him everywhere while he's on vacation. He gets enough of that at home. He also selfishly knows that he and you likely wouldn't get another moment alone if he agreed.

"I wish you'd let us send someone out just to watch the perimeter at least," Bruce says with a sigh. "I'm just a call away if you change your mind. I'll have some of my men on standby."

"Thank you, Bruce. I will let you know." Joel hangs up the phone and resumes pacing his bedroom. It feels excruciatingly empty after you left. He starts to make his way towards the door to go and find you when his phone rings again.

"Alester," he says, answering the call.

"Good evening, sir. I am so sorry to bother you during your daughter's engagement party," Alester says.

"Alester, you know I am never too busy to talk to you," Joel says with a laugh. No one knows better than Alester just how much of a lie that is. He is always too busy.

"I just got off the phone with the security team. Have you talked with Bruce yet?"

"Yes, I actually just got off the phone with him."

"Oh, good, then you probably know more than I do. I just wanted to call and assure you that your accounts have all been secured. I also went over your father's will again with a fine tooth comb, and it is just as I expected, airtight."

"Thank you, Alester. That brings me a lot of peace of mind."

"Just be careful, Joel. It sounds like Blaine will stop at nothing to bring down the Millers."

"Honestly, it would be a waste for him to come here. I have nothing on me of any value to him. He would be smarter to wait until I am back in New York. If he does show up here, there is nothing he can take from me."

"Just be careful, sir. If Blaine realizes that he won't be able to get money, he will likely go after something else."

"What could he possibly go after, other than my money?" Joel asks, curious as to what Alester is referring to.

"Your reputation," Alester says with obvious anxiety in his voice.

"You make a good point, Alester. This is exactly why I depend on you so much. I will be on high alert."

"Take care, Joel."

Joel hangs up the phone and tosses it onto his bed, not wanting to deal with anything more for the rest of the night. The soft thump of the phone on the mattress breaks the silence of the very empty room.

The realization that you had left, and that he had let you, hits him in the stomach. Joel places his palms over his eyes, and the first thing that comes to mind is you and your kiss. The memory of your eyelids as they delicately fluttered shut right before his lips met yours. He can almost feel the heat of your body pressed up against his and the perfect curve of your ass as he pulled you up to him. He needs to find you. You'd told him your truth about Todd, and now it was his turn to tell you his truth. He needs to explain that it was his bastard brother who ruined their moment.

Your touch must have addled his brain; it was the only logical explanation he could find as to why he would let you walk out of his room. How could he have let you walk away, especially after a kiss like that? Joel is desperate to find you and makes his way out of his room and down the hallway, even knowing his hair is in a state of disarray. He can't waste time fixing it; he also doesn't want to mess with your handiwork.

He makes his way back to the party, hoping that you had come back there. He scans the sea of drunken people, searching for you. A flash of red gets his hopes up, but they quickly fall as the woman turns around. The red-haired woman does not hold a candle to you.

"Daddy!" Sarah squeals, catching sight of him.

"Sarah, sweetheart. Are you having a nice time?" Joel says as he tries to seem as interested as he can. Even though he is desperate to cut the conversation short and find you. He knows the longer he lets their moment pass, the harder it will be to get it back.

"It is absolutely amazing, Daddy. Have you tried the Sarah lemon drop?" she asks, but she shoves a drink into his hand, not waiting for his response. The next thing he knows she is hitting the side of his glass with a fork, getting the crowd's attention. "My Daddy, who was sweet enough to throw this amazing party for me and my fiance, would like to give a speech in our honor," Sarah says, her voice raised to the entire crowd.

Nothing quite like being put on the spot. However, Joel knows that if Sarah wants it, she will stop at nothing to get it. He can't help but wonder if his daughter had purposely set her sights on Todd, knowing he was not single. Sadly, he knows better than to think she isn't capable of such a thing.

"Thank you, Sarah, for that wonderful introduction. I would like to welcome you all to my home and thank you for taking the time to celebrate my beautiful daughter and her future husband," Joel says, holding his glass up to the couple, and the crowd follows, raising their drinks too. He can't think of anything complimentary to say about Todd, so he decides to focus on the good aspects of his daughter's character. However, that proves to be more difficult than he had originally thought. "Sarah has always known how to get exactly what she wants." Shit, that sounded harsh. "So I know that because she has put her heart into having a happy marriage, that is exactly what will happen for her. I wish all the best to my one and only daughter." The crowd claps at the wrap-up of his speech, and Joel hopes he has pulled it off without upsetting Sarah.

"Thank you, Daddy!" Sarah says, pecking a small kiss on his cheek. He guesses he hadn't blundered too badly.

"Where is Todd?" Joel asks Sarah, surprised to see that he is not by her side.

"Oh, I'm not sure. I've been having so much fun, I lost track of him," Sarah says with a shrug, not seeming worried.

"Well, let me know if you need anything, sweetheart, but I think I’m going to turn in for the night. I'm not young enough to keep up with you and your friends."

"One more thing before you go. We need to discuss the budget for my wedding. I need to contact this wedding dress designer if I am going to get one of their dresses in time, but it is a fifty-thousand dollar deposit to hold my spot."

Not wanting to get into a conversation about wedding budgets when he desperately needs to find you, Joel tells Sarah, "Whatever you need, honey."

Sarah squeals her usual high-pitched, bird-scaring squeak, "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

"We can discuss the details later," Joel says and walks back inside. He looks around and is relieved that the house seems to be empty, so he makes his way up to the second floor and your door.

He knocks quietly, but there is no response.

"Damn it," Joel says, fearing you are ignoring him on purpose.

He presses his ear to the door and hears running water, and he guesses that you are taking a bath. He wishes he could be in there with you, feeling your naked body against his. He sighs and pulls out a piece of gum, popping it in his mouth and pulling a pen out of the inside pocket of his jacket.

On the small bit of hope that you aren't ignoring him but simply can't hear him, Joel writes a note on the gum wrapper and slips it under your door.

I can't stop thinking about you or that kiss. I will find you tomorrow, so we can talk.

-J.

You wake up on top of the king-sized bed in your cotton robe, having apparently fallen asleep right after getting out of the tub the night before. You didn't even make it under the covers. Your stomach growls, prompting you to get up and pull yourself together.

After applying some light makeup, you select a strappy sundress from your new vacation wardrobe and head for the door. Your bare feet come into contact with a slip of paper someone has slid under your door at some point during the night. Even without recognizing the neat handwriting from his previous note, you know it's from Joel. You can't help but smile at the thought of being on his mind. You carefully place the note with the other and the small pink seashell before making your way down to the kitchen.

The house is completely silent; everyone is probably still in bed, nursing a hangover. You're glad that you'll get to spend the morning by yourself. It gives you plenty of time to wrap your head around your own feelings. You quietly navigate the kitchen and make yourself an omelet. It feels nice to fend for yourself for a meal rather than having it brought to you on a silver platter. While some aspects of this life are extremely appealing, there's something fulfilling about making your own meal. You plate the omelet and find a quiet spot on the patio to watch the waves as you enjoy your breakfast in silence. As you take the last bite, you hear a clatter of moving dishes behind you, signaling that others are up, so you leave your plate and walk towards the private beach. You've already explored your way down toward the gazebo, so you decide to venture in the opposite direction instead. The chirps of birds are your only company on your walk down the beach, and slowly the sand leads you to a secluded cove surrounded by pine trees and rocky ledges.

The water is still and so clear you can see the schools of brightly colored fish swimming beneath the surface. You wade into the water to your ankles, but on a whim, you take a quick look around to make sure you're alone before slipping the dress from your shoulders and throwing it onto the dry sand, followed by your lace bra and panties. You slip slowly under the water's surface, and the fish scatter around you. You swim lazily through the water, daydreaming about Joel. You can't wait to talk to him later, and hopefully to kiss him again.

"You're braver than you look."

You jump and move to cover yourself before realizing who it is. Joel stands on the beach watching you tread water, clearly enjoying the view.

"What are you doing here? I thought I was alone," you say, trying your best to hide yourself under the water.

"I saw footsteps in the sand on the beach; I assumed you would be the only one up already. So I took a chance and followed them. I didn't expect to find you like this, though," Joel says with a small laugh and a mischievous grin.

He turns around to give you privacy, likely thinking you'll get out of the water and get dressed. Instead, you swim up to where he stands at the edge of the water and splash him. He leaps forward and turns around again, a smile finding his lips.

"Are you going to be brave?" you taunt, not knowing what's gotten into you that day. You swim backward, daring him to come after you.

Joel slowly unbuttons his shirt and slips off his perfectly fitting shorts until he's standing there with nothing on but the wind at his back. You can't help but stare at him standing naked on the shore. He follows you into the water, although less gracefully.

"What did you want to talk about?" you ask as Joel stops a few feet from you, treading water. It's hard to keep your eyes on his face and not let them wander down to his manhood.

"I wanted to apologize for the way I ruined last night," Joel says.

"What do you mean ruined? I was just hoping everything was alright. I saw the worry on your face. Something big must have happened."

"Wow, I did not expect you to react that way. What do you mean you could see the worry on my face? Am I that transparent?"

"No, I don't think you are transparent. I just noticed the crease you get between your eyebrows when you're worried. You got the same one when you were asking me about my past with…" You trail off, not wanting to bring up your ex at this moment. Joel takes the cue and does not push the matter any further, gracefully changing the subject.

"I'm glad I didn't ruin everything," Joel says softly, looking at you. He looks at you with unadulterated desire.

"Why is that?" you ask.

"Because if I did, I wouldn't be able to kiss you again."

Joel smiles and inches closer to you in the water. You can't help but notice his eyes roaming up and down your body.

"Should we, though?"

"Do you have a reason we shouldn't?" Joel asks, the crease between his eyebrows appearing again. He stops just short of touching you, but you feel like you can still feel him. The current between you is electric.

"What about Sarah?" you say, trying to keep control of yourself. Just being this close to him, naked, makes you feel breathless and excited.

“You only need to worry about what you want. It shouldn't matter to Sarah what happens between us, and if it does, I will handle it."

You take a deep breath and look at Joel's questioning eyes. You know he's right. You always worry more about other people's happiness than your own. At some point, you're going to have to choose you. Aubrey and Lin have sent so many text messages telling you to go for it with Joel. They obviously don't think it's a problem to date Sarah's dad. So why should you?

"I want you to kiss me again," you say shyly. "I want… more. I want you."

Joel closes the distance between you and pulls you into him. Your naked bodies connect under the water, and the smoothness of your skin together electrifies the water around you. The softness from the kiss the night before has all but faded into the passionate urgency of your kisses in the water. You wrap your legs around his waist, loving the way your bare bodies feel against each other.

Joel moves from kissing your mouth to kissing down your neck. You can feel his desire, hard against your leg, and you can't deny that you want him just as badly.

"Are you sure you want this?" Joel pants between kisses on your neck, moving back up toward your mouth.

"Yes, Joel, don't stop." you moan in a breathless whisper.

"Do you still want more?" His voice catches in his throat, and you can hear the longing in each word.

"Yes," you whisper into Joel's ear before biting it gently.

Just as you start to feel him slipping inside you, a tree branch cracks, snapping your attention to a man holding a camera pointed directly at you. You grab onto Joel and say urgently, "Joel, there's a man taking pictures of us!"

Joel turns his head, clearly seeing the man with the camera. "Shit! Stay behind me. I'll get you out of this."

Joel uses his body to cover yours, and you bury your face into his neck, praying the man hasn't already gotten a picture of your face. Joel swims for a group of rocks, hiding you both behind them.

"You stay right here, and I will go handle this," Joel says.

You latch onto one of the rocks, and Joel, sliding on his shorts, takes off in the cameraman's direction. They both disappear from your view in the dense vegetation and palm trees. Hot tears stream down your face, mixing with the salt water. You swim over to the beach and slip your dress back on before the cameraman can return. The fabric clings to your still-wet body, a feeling you absolutely hate. However, the feeling of safety the dress brings you is worth being uncomfortable. How could you have forgotten that Joel is not only your friend's dad but he is also, in his own right, a famous businessman? It's easy to forget that the man is worth billions because he is so kind and generous, especially toward you. As your heart slows, your stomach rolls with dread. That man was likely with a magazine that would publish those pictures for the entire world to see. Pictures of you about to have sex with Sarah's dad. You can already imagine the headlines and articles that would follow the scandalous pictures. There would be no way to face Sarah after she saw pictures of you naked and kissing her father. If your identity got out, you could possibly lose your spot at Harvard, and you could kiss the job at the law firm goodbye too.

You finish getting dressed and then walk back to the mansion on your own, knowing you can't face Joel after the trouble you've just caused. You'll lock yourself in your room until you can sneak away to your flight tomorrow.

You keep looking over your shoulder and scanning the surrounding areas for people as you walk back. Once in your room, you lean your back against the door. You and Joel had almost had sex. You smile to yourself, no longer trying to deny how good he makes you feel. The thought of facing him after this scares you, but you desperately want to finish what you've started. You slide your dress off and get in the shower to wash off the sand, then snuggle into the robe Joel gave you, drinking in his scent. You just wish things could have ended differently between Joel and you. If that was the only time you were ever going to be in his arms, you don't want it to be tainted by the intruder with the camera. You want to remember the two of you together, wrapped in each other's arms, focusing on how amazing you make each other feel. Hot tears slide down your cheeks. You'd known this was a bad idea, that you shouldn't get involved with your friend's dad, even if Sarah wasn't the nicest person, even if she was unknowingly marrying your ex.

Going home can't erase what you've already done, but it can prevent anything worse from happening. You'll miss Joel, but leaving is for the best. You know that now - for certain.

Your eyes burn from all the crying you did the night before. You've spent the whole day in your room, and you've barely slept, worrying about how many magazines will have the picture of you and Joel on the cover tomorrow and thinking about your decision to leave. You just hope you'll be able to make it home before the media catches hold of the story. You want to be as far away from Sarah as possible when she gets ahold of the picture.

You text Lin, telling her to confirm the flight for the next day, and you wonder how you'll even get there. Flying commercial means you can't use the private airstrip. Maybe Reggie will be able to help you. Or Brenna. Now more than ever, you want to escape this vacation. You've gone to the bathroom and started the shower, filling the room with steam, when you hear urgent knocking on your door. Your heart sinks, knowing Joel would never knock so frantically on your door; the only other person it could be is Sarah. She must have already seen the picture. You turn off the shower and wrap yourself in your robe before taking your death march to the door. You swing it open to find Sarah standing there with mascara-stained tears running down each cheek.

"Hey," Sarah sobs and cups her mouth with one of her hands.

"Sarah, I am…" But before you can start apologizing, Sarah wraps you in a hug and starts crying into your shoulder. You stand there, stunned and confused.

You figure Sarah has come up here to kick you out of her father's house and end your friendship. After a few seconds, you wrap your arms around her and pat her back.

"Sarah, what is going on?" you ask, still confused but selfishly relieved.

"I caught Todd with another woman last night!" Sarah gasps, her body shaking with sobs.

"Oh, Sarah," you say in a sympathetic tone. You want to call Todd every horrible name you can think of, but you know that won't help right now. That comes later in the breakup, as you're all too familiar with because of Todd. 

You pull back from Sarah, and with your arm around her shoulder, lead her to one of the small couches in the room's sitting area. You pull out your phone and send a quick text to the maid, Brenna.

You: SOS! Sarah is having a breakdown in my room. Could you have someone send up some coffee (for me) and tissues (for Sarah)?

Brenna: On it! I'll be there soon. Hang in there.

"Who are you texting? I need your undivided attention right now!" Sarah says, shooting you a dirty look.

"I texted one of the maids; I'm having her bring up some stuff for you," you say, trying to stay calm at Sarah's outburst at you. It's probably just because she's so upset.

"Oh, that's fine, I guess."

"Sarah, tell me what happened," you say.

"Last night, Todd didn't come back to our room. I was worried about him, so I started looking through the entire house for him. I couldn't find him anywhere, so I went outside, figuring he might have gone for a walk on the beach to calm down after our fight."

"What did you two fight about?"

"Well, the first day we got here, I picked up his phone while he was in the shower, and he had a text from an unknown number. The text said, 'I miss you.'"

"Sarah, that could have been from someone in his family," you say. You can't believe you're standing up for Todd. You know exactly the kind of man he is, but seeing Sarah so upset makes you want to protect her feelings.

"That's what I figured until he got out of the shower. He saw me holding his phone and got super defensive about it. Last night, I brought it up again because we never actually got to the bottom of it because he distracted me by biting my…"

"Anyway!" you interrupt, not wanting to hear where that story is going to go.

"Anyway, we fought about it again last night. He told me I was being paranoid," Sarah says with a big sniff.

Just in time, a knock sounds on your door, and you rush to get it. Brenna carries in a tray with a pot of coffee, two mugs, some expensive-looking tissues, and a box of chocolates. That Brenna is a smart one. You quietly thank her, and she nods, smiling at you as if to say, 'good luck.' You hand Sarah a tissue, and she dabs at her dripping nose.

"I'm sorry. Look at me; I'm a mess."

"Don't worry about it, Sarah; we can get you cleaned up after you feel better."

You pour a cup of coffee and hand it to Sarah. "What did you say when he told you you were being paranoid?" you ask.

"I told him I had every right to be paranoid with the way he was acting, but then I took it too far and said I should have known he would cheat again."

"What?!" You're about to take a sip of your own coffee, but you hold it frozen in midair.

"Oh, he hasn't cheated on me before," Sarah says, not understanding why her statement shocks you.

"He had some girlfriend when we met, and it took him a while after we started sleeping together for him to end it finally. Anyway, so I went outside to look for him and found him rolling around in the sand with some girl."

"You can't be serious," you say, and the edges of your vision turn red.

"I am serious; I was horrified. She wasn't even that pretty! You could totally tell her boobs were fake."

"No, Sarah, not that, you knew he had a girlfriend, and you hooked up with him anyway?"

"I am not the bad guy here; that slut on the beach is! Whose friend are you anyway?" Sarah says angrily.

"I thought you were my friend, Sarah." The words are coming out of your mouth before you can stop them. "It was me that Todd was cheating on!" you yell, letting the secret finally slip out.

Sarah stares at you in disbelief and then starts laughing. "Todd would never date someone like you," she says, still giggling through her tears.

It seems like she really thinks you're telling a joke, but her responding by putting you down is infuriating. "What the hell is that supposed to mean, Sarah? We dated for three years, so he must have been attracted to me at one point," you say defensively.

"I know you are trying to cheer me up, girl, but I need real advice right now, not just laughs."

"I am not lying to you, Sarah," you say and pull out your phone, swiping through countless pictures of Todd and you when you were happy, or at least when you thought you were happy. You show Sarah a picture of Todd and you at a coffee shop in New York, and Todd is kissing you on the cheek.

"Oh, my God -"

"I told you, Sarah, we really did date for three years. Todd is a cheater. Trust me, I know breakups are hard, but you are going to be so much better off without him."

"I never said anything about breaking up with him," Sarah says. You're surprised that she's now the one being defensive.

"Sarah, you just caught him fucking with another woman, and you're going to stay with him."

"I am not leaving him for a little slip-up," she responds. Your mouth drops open. You can't believe that she considers cheating just a slip-up. "I can't believe Todd would stoop so low." Sarah stands and looks out the windows after glancing at you with contempt.

"Exactly what I was saying. He isn't worth it." You say, relieved that Sarah is coming around.

"No, I can't believe he stooped so low by dating you. He is completely out of your league." Sarah turns to look at you; anger etched in her features.

"Ouch, Sarah. I know you’re hurting, but I am just trying to help. You don't have to take your anger at Todd out on me," you say.

"Well, you're not helping. You are a complete embarrassment. I don't need a reminder of my fiance's poor judgment hanging around. I think it would be best if you left. You've been such a bummer the whole time anyway."

"Get out of my room," you say in a low voice. It takes everything you have not to scream at her. Your hands are trembling with anger.

"This is my dad's house. You are the one who needs to leave," she crosses her arms as though she's planning on waiting for you to pack your bags.

You stand up and glare daggers at her. "Get the fuck out of my room!"

"Fine, but I want you gone. I don't want to see you ever again!" Sarah quickly makes her way across the room.

"The feeling is mutual!" you shout, and Sarah slams the door closed. The tears start flowing again. You've cried on this trip more than you have in your entire college career, except for maybe when Todd first cheated on you, and that was really saying something. You're going to need some serious therapy for what was supposed to be a relaxing vacation.

You go back to the shower and let the water wash away the tears. You get out and are surprised that Sarah has not sent her mother upstairs to attempt to kick you out. You throw on a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt. Then, you wheel your suitcase out of the closet and throw it onto your bed. With a lack of energy, you shove everything you have with you into the empty container haphazardly.

You take one last look around the beautiful bedroom and out at the amazing view of the ocean. It's a shame that you didn't get to enjoy the balcony off of your bedroom. This entire vacation ended up being more trouble than it was worth, except for Joel. You would have done it all over again, just to spend more time with him.

You slip his two notes into your back pocket and hold the little pink shell in your palm, not wanting to let go. Not wanting to let Joel go. You set the little pink shell back on the nightstand. You hope he'll find it and know what he meant to you on this trip.

The wheels of your suitcase get stuck in the gravel at the end of the driveway. You sigh and pull harder, having no idea how you're going to get to the airport from here. The suitcase is too heavy; it's crammed full of all the clothes Joel bought for you.

You realize you haven't thought your escape plan through. You didn't want to do the messy goodbyes with anyone in the house, and you figured you would be able to find a taxi eventually, but your first priority is to get as far away from the mansion as possible.

However, it seems you're going to be stuck at the end of the driveway forever.

The crunching gravel surprises you, and you turn around; just as a black Cadillac pulls up in front of you. The window rolls down, and you're relieved to see Reggie sitting in the driver's seat.

“What are you doing?” Reggie asks you as he takes off his sunglasses. He looks so confused at you standing there, suitcase stuck in the rocks.

“Um. I'm trying to get to the airport. I have a flight in a couple of hours,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. You don't want to tell him the truth, but you figure it's better to be upfront with him. Besides, he's one of the few people at the house you know for certain you can trust. And  he obviously has a car.

“Did you plan on walking all the way there?” he asks through the window.

“Maybe not my best idea,” you say and look back at the mansion. You hope no one is watching. You have to have the record for the worst escape attempt. “I was hoping to catch a cab or something, but I'm guessing this isn't the best place for that.” You look around and don't see or hear another vehicle.

Reggie gets out of the car and comes around to you. He grabs your bag without another word and puts it in the trunk. He returns to open the passenger door for you. “Well, I'm not letting you walk. Get in; I'll drive you,” Reggie says with a crestfallen smile.

You hesitate, not sure what his expression is meant to convey. Should you just try your luck with a cab after all?

Seeing your lack of commitment, Reggie grabs your hand to help you into the car. Finally accepting the situation, you slide into the passenger seat and feel your body sink into the expensive leather. You're starting to understand how people could get used to this amount of luxury in their daily lives. But you can't get used to it–you're leaving. Who knows when you might experience this type of lifestyle again? Not until you earn it for yourself as a lawyer, most likely.

Reggie closes the door behind you and returns to the driver's side, and starts down the narrow, winding driveway. You can't help but look back for one last time at the colonial-style mansion. In a few days, you're sure it will feel like a dream that you were ever here at all. “Why didn't you just ask for a ride to the airport? Joel would have sent for a car; he probably would have even driven you himself.” Reggie's tone is more questioning than it would've been if he didn't have a hint that something was going on between Joel and you.

“I didn't want to bother anyone.” That's the truth–more or less.

“You couldn't possibly bother anyone.”

You sit in silence as you pass rows of beautiful mansions along the shore. You keep seeing Reggie glance at you out of the corner of his eye. You know he's wondering why you're leaving so hastily. As you drive further inland, the mansions get smaller and smaller until they turn into charming bungalows. Each bungalow is painted in a pop of color.

“When you say you didn't want to bother anyone, you really meant you didn't want to say goodbye, didn't you?”

“How did you know?” you ask, surprised he's picked up on that.

“You seem upset, and the fact that you were so ready to leave that you were going to drag your suitcase all the way to the airport. I just put two and two together.”

“You're right; I didn't want to say goodbye.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Reggie asks, looking over at you directly this time as you come to a stop at an intersection.

“Not really. Sarah and I just got into a fight. She told me she wanted me out of the house.”

“Oh, I thought it might have something to do with you and Joel,” Reggie says as the car accelerates again.

You don't know how to respond to Reggie, so you opt to say nothing instead. The truth is, you don't know how to say goodbye to Joel after all that's happened. How do you thank someone for a beautiful vacation, stolen moments of happiness, and a whirlwind romance while also apologizing for causing a scandal? You ride the rest of the short drive without talking more. You're thankful that Reggie doesn't press you for more answers. And you find you can't stop daydreaming about Joel. You want to kiss him again and finish what you'd started in the water that day. You know you shouldn't, and that you probably won't get the chance. But that doesn't stop the longing one bit.

You pull up to the airport, which is tiny. You guessed you should have expected it to be small, considering you're on an island. Reggie gets out and gets your bag for you. You stand awkwardly on the sidewalk next to the car. “Thank you for driving me, and thank you for being a friend to me,” you say as Reggie hands you the handle of your bag.

“I hope you really mean that. I would consider myself lucky to be counted as one of your friends.”

You lean over and give Reggie a small hug, “I really mean it, Reggie.”

He grabs your hand before you pull away, leaving a business card in your palm. “Please reach out if you need anything from me. We will all be back in New York again in a few weeks. I would love to see you when we make it back,” he says, with a puppy dog look in his eyes.

You nod and put Reggie's business card in your back pocket, next to Joel's notes. You give Reggie a small wave and turn away from him as you walk into the airport. Why couldn't you have fallen for someone like Reggie? That would have made the whole trip a lot less complicated.

After going through security, you look at the time on your phone; you have a whole hour to fill before your flight leaves, and there isn't much to do in such a tiny airport. You slip a crumpled bill into the vending machine and select a lemon-lime soda. It isn't quite the same as getting a latte from an airport cafe, but it will have to do. You select a hard plastic chair next to the terminal and pull out your phone to wait.

You: I made it to the airport! It is absolutely tiny. I have about an hour until my flight leaves, and then three more on the plane. I can't wait to be back home.

Lin: I will be there to pick you up when you land.

Aubrey: We can't wait to see you!

You: I owe you both so much for this. I am taking you two out for drinks as soon as I sleep off this nightmare of a vacation.

Lin: You could pay me back by packing the rest of my stuff in the apartment.

You: Lin, we are moving in less than two weeks! Get on it!

Aubrey: I have been telling her that the entire time you've been gone, but she decided that binging rom-coms is a better use of her time.

Lin: I still think my logic is sound.

You: Save some of those rom-coms for when I get back. I need something to ball my eyes out over.

Aubrey: What happened with Joel? Did things end badly?

You: Beyond badly. I don't want to get into it over text, so I will tell you both all about it when I land.

Lin: I am so sorry girl. I'll make a stop for some ice cream before I come to get you.

Aubrey: Does this require more than ice cream? Maybe Margaritas?

You: I love you two so much! I can't wait to see you. It looks like they are finally going to let me board the plane. I will see you both soon.

You hand the flight attendant your ticket, and she directs you to your seat. You get settled in by the window and gaze out at the scene of swaying palm trees and the blue ocean in the distance. Part of you wishes you could have stayed and enjoyed a few more days in this gorgeous place. You likely wouldn't have the time or money to come back in a long time.

Your phone vibrates against the seat; you expect a last-minute text from Lin or Aubrey, but an unknown number flashes across your screen. Is it Joel? Has he finally found out you left without saying a proper goodbye? You open the message to find the picture of Joel and you in the cove. Your heart stops beating against your chest. You zoom in and are slightly relieved that your face is more than half covered by your hair. It would be hard for someone who didn't know you to find your identity with this picture. However, anyone who was with you on the yacht would know exactly whose vibrant-colored hair was in the picture. Sarah would know immediately what had happened, well, technically almost happened, between her dad and you.

“Ma'am, I am going to have to ask you to turn your phone off for the duration of the flight,” the flight attendant says as she walks down the center aisle.

“Of course,” you respond in a shaky voice.

You hold the power button and watch the screen go black, taking the picture into blackness. You wish it would disappear altogether, but you know it will be there as soon as you turn your phone back on.

“Is this your first time flying?” the flight attendant asks. She must have mistaken your shock for a fear of flying.

“Yes,” you offer meekly, not wanting to explain.

“Well, don't worry. Everything will be okay. We will be back on the ground before you know it.”

“Everything will not be okay,” you mumble as she walks away.

—

Joel rolls over in bed; the glare of the sun from the window streams across his face, pulling him from some much-needed sleep. He can't stop thinking about what had happened with you on the beach. He wants to talk to you, to see if you're okay, but he hasn't seen you since the incident. His mind goes over it, reliving every aspect in vivid color....

"Joel, there's a man taking pictures of us!" you had squealed.

He had turned his head, and sure enough, a man was standing on the rocky outcrop hanging over the cove. "Shit! Stay behind me, you. I'll get you out of this," he had said, protectively shifting your body behind his. You had buried your face in his neck, and he could feel your nervous heartbeat against his chest. He had been so foolish to pull you into this mess. He knew instinctively that this was Blaine's doing.

He should have accepted the extra security when Bruce suggested it.

He had swum for a group of rocks as fast as he could. His summer spent in the ocean made him a stronger swimmer than usual, thankfully. He had reached for the rocks and strategically placed you behind them, out of the cameraman's view. He could see the fear on your face as you grabbed onto one of the smaller rocks. "You stay right here, and I will go handle this," he had said. You had nodded weakly at him, and he had swum hard for the beach.

He had looked up and saw the photographer frantically packing up his tripod and camera equipment. Had he been waiting for them? How could he have possibly known about this secluded spot? He must have been following him and set up his equipment after watching him strip down on the beach. He had grabbed his clothes and made a beeline for the thick vegetation below the man. He had thrown on his clothes haphazardly before starting to climb up the rocks. Once he had reached the top, the dust was barely settling. The man must have run for it when he realized Joel was coming after him. He had debated on going back for you, but he figured he was not far behind the photographer. He could do more damage control if he caught up with him. Men are easily persuaded by money, and he knew with a big enough bribe, he could buy the pictures back. The only problem was he would have had to find the man first. The man's footprints had been plain to see in the sandy earth, so he had taken off running after him. Eventually, the sand had faded into a dirt road. He had been scared he'd lost him when he noticed fresh tire tracks in the dirt; the guy must have taken off fast to leave such obvious divots in the ground. He had followed the tire tracks, but when the dirt connected with the main road, he had lost him. Not ready to give up, he had spent hours searching the surrounding area and asking the few people he had run into if they had seen someone speed out of the area. He had gotten nothing. The guy was a ghost.

When he had returned to the cove, it was illuminated by the stars, and you were long gone. He had returned to the house well after dark; he hadn't wanted to wake you up, so he had returned to his own room, where he showered off the mud and the grime. As soon as he hit the bed, he had fallen into a deep sleep, completely exhausted from the unsuccessful chase. His body still feels sluggish this morning, but he forces himself to get up; he needs to check on you to make sure you're alright. He doesn't know how he's going to break it to you that he hadn't been able to track down the man with the camera.

He grabs his phone off of the nightstand, surprised to see that he has slept late into the afternoon. He has several messages and emails that need his attention. He opens his messages and has an image from an unknown number; he already knows the picture he will see before he opens it. But he opens it anyway. He has to see exactly how bad the situation is. He is relieved that your face is covered by your hair and that you are hidden behind his body. That will help protect you. He can handle a little public scrutiny, but it could be career-ending for you if the public got ahold of your name. He types out a quick message, seething with every letter he types into the phone.

Joel: What the fuck do you want?

Unknown: One million or this picture will be sent to every gossip tabloid.

Joel: Do you really want to play that game with me? I know it is you, Blaine. You are going down a very dangerous path.

Unknown: I need the money, or the picture will be leaked at midnight. I think it is you that is playing a dangerous game, Joel.

Joel: Leak the picture, Blaine. You are not worth my time.

Unknown: Are you willing to risk your reputation over a measly million dollars?

Joel: I can take a little hit on my reputation. If I give you what you want, you will just come back for more. That is the nature of leeches.

Unknown: If I am a leech, what does that make you? You think about no one but yourself, but what about the girl? Can she handle the scandal? What will it do to her life?

Joel: Even the FBI wouldn't be able to figure out her identity from this picture. Maybe next time, you should splurge on a better photographer. It is amazing to me that you can't even get blackmail right.

Unknown: I know exactly who the girl is. My guess is that I know more about her than you do. How else would I know that she left on a plane earlier today? She must be so ready to be back at home. I guess she wanted to be as far away from you as possible before the picture is leaked.

Joel: You know nothing.

Unknown: Play tough all you want Joel, but those you care about will be the ones to get hurt. Get me the money, or else.

He slams his phone back down on the nightstand. There is no way Blaine knows who you are, but a sinking pit in his stomach makes him rush from his room and up the stairs. The walk to your room seems longer than ever before. He just needs to see your face.

When he gets to your room, the door stands open. His stomach drops; the room is empty… You are nowhere in sight, the bed is made, and the room looks barren despite the perfectly styled decor. He rushes into the bathroom, hoping to find some sign that you haven't really left, only to find it empty as well. The closet is also empty of all of your clothing, and your suitcase is gone.

You truly have left.

He sinks onto your empty bed, his head in his hands, trying to accept the situation and figure out what he had done wrong. He glances over to the nightstand and realizes you have left something, possibly on purpose. The only thing left in the room is a small pink shell set on your bedside table. He picks it up, rubbing the smooth side against his thumb. Where had you picked this up? It must have been significant enough that you felt the need to keep it. He slips the small shell into his pocket. He should have gone after you instead of the guy taking pictures, but now he can't help but wonder if you even wanted him to.

“Sir?"

The voice shakes him from his thoughts, drawing him back to reality. Reggie is standing in the doorway, a somber expression on his face as he rocks gently from side to side, as if contemplating how to tell him something.

“Yes, Reggie? Is there something I can do for you?" His voice sounds exhausted even to his own ear. He hopes that whatever Reggie has to say doesn't have anything to do with work. That is the last thing on his mind at the moment.

“No, I was actually coming to tell you I just got back from dropping her off at the airport. I ran into her when I was driving back from picking up a few things at the store for the chefs this morning. She was dragging her suitcase through the gravel at the end of the drive."

His heart crumbles again at hearing the confirmation that you are really gone. You've left–without a word. “Thank you for making sure she got to the airport. Did she say why she was leaving?"

“She didn't give me much detail. She looked really upset, though. She mentioned fighting with Sarah. I have no idea what they fought about, but a couple of the maids said they heard Sarah screaming at someone early this morning. No one really thought much of it; they just figured she was yelling at a member of the staff."

It certainly wouldn't be unusual for Sarah to scream at a staff member–or her friend for that matter. “That girl needs a reality check," he says with a loud sigh.

He truly is embarrassed to find out that his daughter had yelled at his staff members so frequently that it was considered perfectly normal. He will have to rein her in before she does some real damage. He also needs to find out what she had said to you to make you leave. He suddenly feels exhausted at the thought of having to confront his daughter. Getting blackmailed by his deranged, bastard half-brother is enough for one day.

“Thank you, Reggie. Will you call my housekeeper at the New York home and let her know to prepare for my arrival please?"

Reggie raises his eyebrows slightly but then nods. “Of course, sir. When should I tell her we will arrive?"

“Tell her we will be there tomorrow. I don't want to stay here any longer than I have to." His mind is made up, which does make him feel slightly better about the situation.

Reggie nods and leaves him alone with his thoughts.

So you really did leave. The fact that Blaine knew you left means he was having you followed. If he went to see you, he would lead Blaine right to you. His only option is to act as though you didn't matter to him. The only way to keep you safe is to keep his distance. He wouldn't go after you. Not until after he tracked Blaine down.

—

"You need to tell him," Aubrey insists, her arms folded firmly across her chest. Ever since she learned about the blackmail, she's been your guardian angel, fiercely protective.

"But we're both in that photo," you protest, the heat rising to your cheeks as you recall the day. "I was the one who stripped down and dove into the water first. I have no idea what came over me. Joel showed up, and before I knew it, I was daring him to join me. We got... carried away."

Lin's eyes narrow with a playful grin. "Are you blushing? What do you mean by 'carried away'?" she pries, her curiosity piqued.

You chuckle nervously, the memory flooding back. "Well, I haven't told you this, but we almost went all the way in the water that day." It's time to come clean with your friends.

"Oh my god, you're just spilling this now?" Lin exclaims, her excitement bubbling over.

"I've been trying to push it out of my mind, but I can't stop thinking about Joel," you confess, your thoughts drifting to him despite your best efforts.

Aubrey swats Lin's arm, a reminder of the gravity of the situation. "This is serious, Lin. It's not the time for jokes."

"I just don't get why he hasn't sent a security team or something! He's loaded, right? He needs to step up and take responsibility," you say, still shaken from being tailed by a mysterious man from your gym – likely the same one behind the blackmail.

"He has just as much at stake as I do," you add, collapsing onto the worn-out sofa, the weight of the situation pressing down on you.

You're still catching your breath from the encounter, wondering if giving in would only make things worse for Joel. Who could be so intent on hurting him that they'd resort to blackmail and stalking?

"Does he, though? He's got his fortune to shield him," Aubrey counters.

"He might not even know what's happening," you say in Joel's defense.

"Then you need to fill him in," Lin interjects, her tone firm.

"I know I do, but I'm not sure how to reach out to him," you admit. You wish you could just call him, arrange to meet somewhere in the city. But you never got his number, figuring you'd never need it – he was always just a short walk away. And now, it's too late.

"Could you ask Sarah for his number?" Aubrey suggests.

"Even if I wanted to talk to her after our huge fight, I doubt she'd respond," you say, the bridge between you and Sarah burnt to ashes.

Lin, ever the problem-solver, pulls out her phone and quickly types away. Moments later, she hands it to you, displaying a picture of a towering skyscraper with a New York address.

"This is his office. Just go in and talk to him," Lin urges, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Also, I can't resist – was he a good kisser?"

Aubrey laughs, smacking Lin on the shoulder, while your smile and the telltale blush give away your answer.

—

The Express Air building looms over you, an imposing figure against the city skyline. You watch as men and women in sharp suits hurry in and out of the grand entrance, their importance echoing in the rhythm of their steps. Inside, the opulence of white marble floors and black elevators leaves you feeling out of place. The lobby buzzes with the sound of stilettos and the murmur of conversations, all bouncing off the high ceilings in a symphony of business.

You quickly retreat to the far side of the lobby, where a black letterboard announces Joel's office on the top floor. The elevator button glows under your touch, the wait for the doors to open feeling like an eternity. The elevator fills, and you try to blend into the background, your heart pounding as you ascend. When the last of your fellow passengers disembark, you finally breathe, rehearsing your speech to Joel in your head. Despite the dire news you carry, there's a flicker of excitement at the thought of seeing him again. You hope he'll forgive your sudden departure – without an explanation, without a goodbye. Perhaps he's missed you as much as you've missed him. The elevator dings, signaling your arrival. You step out with newfound confidence, only to have it crushed by the receptionist's icy gaze.

"Are you lost?" she asks, her tone dripping with condescension. She's the epitome of a high-fashion model, her tight black dress clinging to her like a second skin.

You approach her desk, trying to maintain your composure. "I'm here to see Mr. Miller. Is he available?"

Her cold smile sends a chill down your spine. "Desperate women come up here all the time, hoping to catch a glimpse of Mr. Miller. At least they dress the part. You, on the other hand..."

You bristle at her words but press on. "I've met Mr. Miller before. It's urgent that I speak with him."

She rolls her eyes, the picture of impatience. "If you knew him, you'd have an appointment. Mr. Miller's schedule is booked for months. I can't let just anyone see him without one. It's how we keep out the crazies." Her gaze rakes over you, the unspoken implication hanging in the air.

You take a deep breath, steadying your voice. "Please, this is time-sensitive. I really need to see him today."

"It's always 'time-sensitive,'" she mocks, turning back to her computer. "I can call security if you can't find your way out."

Your hands clench into fists, the anger threatening to spill over. But you know losing your temper will only hasten your exit.

"May I leave a note for him, then? It'll be his choice to respond," you say, the words barely above a whisper.

With an exaggerated sigh, she slides a piece of notepaper and a pen toward you. You scribble a quick message, careful not to reveal too much:

Joel, I'm being contacted about our swim in the cove. We need to talk.

You add your name and number, then hesitate before adding a postscript in tiny letters.

P.S. I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye.

You slide the note back to her, your heart sinking as you press the elevator call button. When you glance back, the receptionist is watching you, a smug smile playing on her lips. You rush out of the building, head down, the paranoia of being watched still gnawing at you. You can only hope the receptionist will deliver your message to Joel. For all you know, it could be lining a trash can by now. As the elevator descends and you step back onto the street, you're left with a sense of helplessness. What will you do if Joel doesn't reach out soon?

—

"Bruce, please tell me you have some good news," Joel says into his phone.

He walks out onto the balcony of his penthouse, taking in the New York skyline. The city's energy is palpable, but after Blaine's attempts at blackmail, the presence of his security team is a constant reminder of the danger lurking in the shadows. His penthouse, a sanctuary of solitude, is one of the few places where he can find a moment's peace, though even here, the security team maintains a vigilant watch from the lobby below.

"I am afraid it is not good news, sir. We have reason to believe that Blaine is indeed back in New York. What is surprising is that my security team followed him into a neighborhood far from both your penthouse and your offices," Bruce informs him.

Instantly, Joel's thoughts leap to you. The only logical explanation is that Blaine is attempting to use you to get in contact with him. "Shit," he mutters under his breath.

"Do you know where he would be headed, sir?" Bruce inquires.

"I believe he is trying to use a woman to get to me," Joel says, giving Bruce your name. "She was on the yacht with us for part of the vacation. We became involved, and she got caught in Blaine's crossfire."

"Is she the one in the picture?"

"Yes, she is, Bruce. I’ve been trying to find a way to contact her for the past week with no luck. She likely wants nothing to do with me after getting caught up in this mess. However, I would like to have some of the team watching out for her. Would you let me know if you can find her most recent address or a way for me to contact her?"

Joel has reached out to you multiple times over social media, the only link he has to you, but each message has gone unanswered. He isn't sure if you're purposely avoiding responding to them or if you just haven't seen them. You are the complete opposite of his daughter, who lives her entire life on social media.

"Of course. I will let you know when I find something, sir," Bruce assures him.

"Thank you, Bruce. I don't know what I would do without you having my back," Joel expresses, knowing full well that Bruce is not one for effusive praise.

Bruce offers a small cough of acknowledgment, and the line goes dead. Bruce doesn't know how to take compliments well, but Joel wants him to understand how much he values him, even if it makes him uncomfortable to hear it. A knock sounds on Joel's door just as he steps back inside from the balcony. He opens it reluctantly, already mourning the loss of his solitude as Marnie, his ex, barges in uninvited.

"Marnie, what are you doing here?" he asks, though he knows the answer will likely disrupt the calm he's sought.

"I needed to go over the budget for Sarah's wedding before I start finalizing the plans," she says, making herself at home on his brown leather sofa.

He takes a seat across from her, the tension already building as he rubs his temples. Dealing with Marnie, especially when it comes to money, is a surefire way to trigger a migraine. "Just let me know what my portion of the wedding is, and I will pay for it. I am not in the mood to discuss the cost of linen tablecloths and reams of silk with you," he says, closing his eyes in an attempt to ward off the impending headache. As he continues to rub his temples, he hopes she'll take the hint and leave. But Marnie is nothing if not persistent, especially when she's on the hunt for more funds. He often reflects on how lucky he was that her late husband dealt with her more frequently than he ever had to.

"Well, you are in a mood, aren't you? I figured you would want to have more involvement in your only daughter's wedding," she says with a dramatic sigh.

"I already said I would pay my share of whatever Sarah wants. She doesn't want my opinion on the actual details of the wedding, and neither do you," he retorts, weary of the conversation.

"Well, that is fair enough," she concedes with another sigh, as if the weight of the world rests on her shoulders.

He lets the silence hang in the air, a temporary respite from the inevitable conflict. But his patience wears thin, and he finally breaks the silence. "Was there something else you wanted to discuss, Marnie?"

"Well, now that you ask, yes, there is a small matter I wanted to discuss with you," she says, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.

He sits up, bracing himself for whatever she's about to drop on him. Of course, she doesn't get straight to the point, and he's forced to coax it out of her. "And what is the small matter?" he asks, trying to keep the irritation from his voice.

"Sarah's trust."

"Yes? As we have already discussed, Sarah has a trust set up by the Miller family," he says, already dreading where this conversation is headed.

Marnie has a history of making poor financial decisions, so he's been meticulous in setting up Sarah's trust to prevent her from accessing it prematurely. He's always held out hope that Sarah would mature and learn to manage her finances responsibly. But deep down, he knows that's probably just wishful thinking.

"Well, since she is getting married, I think she would benefit from receiving it now," Marnie says with a confidence that worries him.

"The trust is set up so that she won’t be able to access the funds until she turns twenty-five," he says firmly, having had similar discussions with her in the past.

"She has to wait until she is twenty-five to receive what is rightfully hers?" Marnie asks, as if this is news to her.

"Yes, that’s how the trust is structured. That way, she's mature enough to handle that amount of money," he explains, though he knows Marnie is more interested in the money than in Sarah's maturity.

"That is all fine in theory, but that puts her in a difficult position right now," she continues, her voice tinged with a sense of urgency.

"How so? Todd seems fully capable of supporting her. He has a good standing in his father's company," he responds, already sensing where this is going.

"That is true, but I was just talking with Todd, and he had his eye on a penthouse on the upper east side that is a bit out of his price range. It would be the perfect starter home for them, and I would hate to see them deprived."

Alarm bells ring in his head as soon as Marnie mentions Todd. The man has his sights set on Sarah's trust fund before they're even married. Given how Todd has treated you, Joel can't say he's surprised. "I see. Does Sarah know about this penthouse?" he asks, already suspecting the answer.

"Of course not. Todd wants to surprise her with it as a wedding gift," she says, as if the idea of a surprise penthouse is perfectly reasonable.

"I will change the terms of Sarah's trust fund on one condition," he says, looking Marnie directly in the eyes to convey the seriousness of his words.

"What is that?" she asks, her eyes widening with hope.

"Todd signs a prenup. Everything that Sarah pays for will remain in Sarah's name alone. He will not have access to any of her trust fund money."

"You are being ridiculous, Joel. A healthy marriage can't operate like a business transaction."

"Those are my terms. If Todd doesn't like it, they don't have to get married at all," he states with finality.

"You would really take away your daughter's one chance at happiness over something as trivial as money?!" Marnie screeches, her true colors shining through.

He can't help but find it ironic that she calls money trivial, given how often she comes to him for financial help. "If money is so trivial, then Todd should have no problem signing a prenup," he counters.

He has serious doubts that Todd is Sarah's one chance at happiness. In fact, the more he gets to know Todd, the more he's convinced that Todd will only bring Sarah misery. He would have liked to discuss this with Sarah, but he knows that once she sets her mind on something, there's no changing it.

"I can't believe you would be so selfish! You are going to ruin the surprise of the penthouse completely, and that will cast a horrible shadow over the entire wedding. You are going to ruin everything for Sarah. She has had enough to deal with in her life by losing one father figure. Now you are going to break her heart all over again!" Marnie spits out, her words laced with venom.

He's used to her throwing her late husband in his face to manipulate him into doing what she wants. She always portrays Sarah as the victim, conveniently forgetting that it was her own actions that kept Sarah from knowing her real father for the first ten years of her life. The guilt used to work on him, but he's since seen through her manipulations. "Those are my terms, Marnie. You are not going to back me into a corner. If this was truly important to Sarah, she could come to discuss it with me. But I’m not making any changes to her trust because you and her fiance are conspiring together."

His phone, which he had placed on the sofa cushion beside him, vibrates, pulling his attention away from Marnie's theatrics. A call from Bruce lights up the screen. "Excuse me, Marnie; I have to take this," he says, picking up his phone with a sense of relief at the interruption. 

He steps back out onto the balcony, closing the door firmly behind him. The last thing he needs is for Marnie to overhear anything about Blaine. She paces back and forth in his living room, visibly fuming from their conversation. "Bruce, what news do you have?"

"Sir, I just got word that a woman matching the young lady's description just left your office. Apparently, she talked with the receptionist about needing to speak with you. The receptionist called security right after she left."

"Thank you, Bruce," he says, his mind already racing with thoughts of you.

He sends a text to his assistant to send the car around, and he prepares to leave, his resolve hardening. 

"Where the hell do you think you are going? We are not finished here," Marnie yells after him.

"Yes, we are, Marnie. I expect you to leave before I get back. I will give orders to my security team downstairs to forcibly remove you if you refuse."

He leaves her standing there, her jaw dropped in shock.

He is not going to lose you again.

—

Joel's driver pulls up to the front of the Express Air Building, and he immediately jumps out to scan the crowd for you.

He lives only a few blocks away from the office, and he left as soon as he'd gotten word that you had been to his office. If he's lucky, maybe he'll catch you before you leave. He stands in the middle of the crowded sidewalk and scans the surrounding street; just across the street, he catches a glimpse of hair that looks just like yours. His heart skips at the chance that it might be you.

His designer dress shoes slap the pavement hard as he tries to make up the distance between you and him. He does his best to avoid a collision with the other pedestrians as he runs, but he knows he's doing a poor job of it, hearing the mutters of frustration in his wake. Despite knowing he's being rude, he pushes himself harder as the gap between you and him starts to lessen. He's halfway down the block from you when he sees your tiny arm shoot up, hailing a taxi. He knows he has to reach you before one of them stops to pick you up. He's ten feet from you when a bright yellow car pulls up in front of you, and you open the back door.

"Stop!" he yells as he races toward you.

You bend your head to enter the cab, and he grabs your wrist just in time.

"Excuse me!" you respond, turning to face him.

"Please, I need to talk to you," he says, out of breath from the chase.

"I am not who you think I am!" the woman says as his eyes finally land on her face. Clearly, not you.

"Shit. I am so sorry, ma'am," he apologizes, releasing her wrist immediately.

"You should be," the woman chides him as she yanks her wrist from his hand and slams the cab door shut.

He makes the long walk back to the entrance of Express Air, catching his breath along the way. He silently gets into an elevator, ignoring the buzz of his employees, numbly answering some of their greetings with a slight nod. Luckily, many of the employees are too busy to notice their boss sulking through the lobby and hallways. The elevator pings at the top floor, and he takes a step out into the waiting room of his office.

He notices at that moment that he's scuffed his shoes in the chase for the 'not you' woman. There goes a perfectly good pair of five-thousand-dollar shoes.

"Good Morning, sir," his receptionist Tabitha says as the elevator doors close behind him.

"Tabitha," he answers with a small nod. He's still angry with her for calling security on you, but he won't get the information he needs from her if he starts scolding her right away, so he holds off.

"Can I get you anything, sir? I wasn't sure if you were coming in today," she says.

"No, that’s quite alright. I wasn't planning on coming in today. Did anyone come by for a meeting with me today?" he asks, hoping she'll tell him about you stopping by.

"No one of any importance, sir," Tabitha says with a seductive smile as she grabs a water bottle from the mini fridge under the reception desk. She cracks the seal and hands it to him.

He takes a mental note that Tabitha is purposely not telling him that you had come looking for him, which he knows from the explanation she had given the security guard. He figures that might be a sign he needs a new receptionist. He takes the water bottle from Tabitha's outstretched hand, maintaining his stern exterior.

"Are you sure? I expected a visit from an old acquaintance. She was supposed to stop by today," he says with a calculating stare.

"Oh, we did have someone stop by," Tabitha says, fidgeting slightly under his gaze. "I didn't catch her name, though."

"Did you happen to 'catch' what she stopped by for?" he asks.

"She said something about knowing you personally, but I highly doubted it with the way she was dressed. I don't think you would stoop so low as to mix with someone who dressed so - common," she says, her voice dripping with disdain.

"What did she look like?" he asks, feeling anger rise up at her judgmental attitude.

Tabitha takes this as an invitation to further mock you to him, as if he had asked her for more of her petty gossip. "Oh, you would not believe the state of her shoes. These ugly brown clunky things. I cannot believe someone would ever leave the store with something so awful!" Tabitha squeaks with delight.

"No, Tabitha. I do’nt care what she was wearing. Why on earth would you think I was so shallow as to only care about the clothes on a person's back?" he says, his irritation clear.

Tabitha looks as though he has physically smacked her. She looks away from him without saying a word and slides a note from underneath her keyboard. She holds it in her hand and nearly flicks it at him.

"She left this note," her flirty tone has completely changed, and he can tell she's trying very hard to keep her voice professional.

"Thank you, Tabitha," he says as he takes the note from her. He walks into his office and closes the glass doors behind him.

He carefully flips over the note in his hand.

Joel, I am being contacted about swimming in the cove. We need to talk.

-P.S. I am sorry I didn't say goodbye.

You had signed the bottom of the note and left your phone number next to your loopy signature. He pulls out his phone and dials your number.

—

You sink into the old sofa, the energy drained from you after the encounter with Joel's dreadful receptionist. You've managed to hold back the hot tears threatening to spill over during the entire elevator ride down to the main floor, but those concerns fade into the background as you make your way back to the apartment. You don't want to call Lin for a ride, and you can't justify the expense of a taxi. The walk home is uneventful until you notice a man in a dark hoodie. He doesn't follow you home, thankfully, but his presence is a stark reminder that someone could be watching you. The thought casts a shadow over the rest of your walk.

"So, did you talk to him?" Aubrey peeks out from the kitchen, her face etched with concern. She must have noticed your less-than-enthusiastic flop onto the sofa or perhaps heard a sigh of frustration escape your lips.

"No, he wasn't at his office, so I left a note with his snobby receptionist," you reply, the disappointment evident in your voice.

"Well, I'm sure it's only a matter of time until he calls you and straightens this whole thing out," she says with a smile that's meant to be reassuring.

"Yeah, I'm sure he'll call if the receptionist actually gives him my note. I wouldn't put it past that witch to have tossed it in the trash the moment I turned my back," you say, pulling a throw pillow over your face to shield yourself from the world.

"Why do you say that?" Aubrey asks, her eyes filled with love and concern as she gazes at you.

You lower the pillow just enough to see her. "Aubs, that was the most embarrassing interaction I've ever had. She told me women pull the same stunt all the time to try and get Joel's attention. She treated me like I was some kind of groupie."

"I'm sure it wasn't your most embarrassing interaction. Do you remember when you sat on that foreign exchange student's jacket? You thought he was hitting on you because he couldn't figure out how to tell you he needed you to get up," Aubrey teases, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Aubrey! I asked you not to mention that again! What was I supposed to think when he kept gesturing to me and then pointing to his butt?" you say, feeling a smile tug at the corners of your mouth despite your exasperation.

Aubrey bursts into laughter, nearly wheezing with amusement.

"But you went on for like ten minutes about how you thought he was really nice but didn't see him or his ass in that way. Oh man, the look on that poor confused boy's face," Aubrey says, wiping a small tear from the corner of her eye.

You pull the pillow back over your face, partly to hide your smile at the memory of your earlier embarrassment.

"What are we missing in here?" Lin asks, entering the room from the bedroom and holding a tape gun.

"Oh, we were just remembering the time that you sat on the foreign exchange student's jacket," Aubrey says, trying to stifle a giggle.

"Oh, I never get tired of that story!" Lin exclaims, then begins imitating you, "I agree. You do have a really nice ass, but that doesn't change the fact that I don't think of you like that."

Aubrey's laughter erupts into a snort, which sets Lin off laughing just as hard. You can't help but think about how much you'll miss living with these two. You're taking Lin with you to Harvard, but it won't be the same without Aubrey.

"I'm going to miss this," you say, sitting up on the couch and hugging the pillow in your lap.

"Don't remind me that you guys are leaving. I've already cried about it today," Aubrey admits.

"Yeah, don't make Aubrey cry. You know I get all weird when people cry," Lin adds.

"You're right. I'm sorry, you two. I just feel bad that I've spent the last week moping around the place, not enjoying our time together."

"We understand, girl, especially now that we know about the whole mess with the photographer," Aubrey says.

"What Aubrey said. Anyway, what happened at Express Air? I'm guessing you didn't get a chance to talk to Joel, or we wouldn't be having this conversation right now."

"No, he wasn't at his office. His horrible receptionist made fun of me and would only let me leave a note for him. I don't even know if she'll give it to him, so all I can do now is sit and wait for him to call, but that's probably a long shot."

"I'm sure he'll call, girl," Aubrey says, coming to sit next to you on the couch.

"It's only a matter of time. And if he doesn't, I'll go up to his office and see if that snot-nosed receptionist can say no to me," Lin declares, sitting on your other side.

"Who said she was snot-nosed?" you ask.

"Just a shot in the dark, honestly, but it felt right."

You all laugh together until your phone starts ringing, breaking the momentary levity. You pull it out of your pocket and take a deep breath before answering, hearing a gruff deep voice on the other end, "Darlin'?”

Taglist <3

@lizzie-cakes @ashhlsstuff @puduvallee @theoraekenslover

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x f!reader #tlou fanfiction

[ana-snz]

More thoughts on the recent snzblr discourse. I will try my best to be understanding and levelheaded about this, but this topic is very personal to me so forgive me if I’m not entirely able to.

I will start by saying that it is not “purity culture” or “moral panic” to say that having this kink does not excuse intentionally infecting unconsenting individuals with illness. There is a MASSIVE difference between enjoying a kink in a consensual setting or fantasizing about it (no one is saying you can’t do these things, you are not being shamed for your fantasies / desires!) and actually involving unwilling individuals in your kink.

Consent is the #1 most important thing in all kink spaces. Like yes we are all here for the same reason, and there may be a propensity to feel defensive if you feel you are being kink-shamed in what is supposed to be a space for us all to be as open and loud and unabashed about our desires as we want, but it is still absolutely crucial to delineate between what is fantasy and what is reality, and understand that our real life actions can and do have consequences. We are not living inside a sickfic, the ways in which we choose to engage in our kink MUST be consensual, respectful, responsible, and safe. It is the bare minimum for this, or any kink space.

It is not kink-shaming to say that non-consensual engagement is wrong and unethical, ESPECIALLY when it comes to something as potentially dangerous as illness. It’s also worth acknowledging that the dynamic of our community has been greatly impacted by COVID, just by the nature of what the kink entails, and that this sucks and is worth mourning, but just like with many other things the pandemic has impacted, we cannot hang on to this old way of being when it no longer is safe or realistic to do so. This is the way things are now, and it sucks, but we can still find SO much enjoyment and gratification and pleasure in the way things are now.

If you are feeling discomfort, if the points disabled people are bringing up around this topic are making you question yourself and your actions, that is likely something for you sit with and explore yourself, rather than trying to debate with disabled people on whether or not their reaction to inflammatory, ableist content is “moral panic”. Understand that this conversation is part of a much, much larger picture and that it is not isolated to just our community, but rather a reflection of a larger systemic response in which disabled people have been disbelieved, undermined, and discarded when it comes to our rights and safety during an ongoing pandemic.

If you didn’t read as much into *that* post as some of us did, great. You likely don’t have to be on hyper alert for this kind of content, but we see it all the time, everywhere. The casual downplaying of COVID and the flippancy about its risks are things we are all too familiar with, and tone policing marginalized folks when we get upset about harmful content is not the move. Listen to us, learn from us, be in solidarity with us. It may seem counterintuitive to you to care about these things in what many of us may see as just a place to escape and have a little fun, but respect is the backbone of kink spaces and we’d all fare well if we could remember that.

This was longer than I planned on it being, oops. I also blocked some people so I don’t even know who will see this but just wanted to add my piece. Love y’all bbs, stay safe ❤️

#snzblr #snzblr discourse #take a shot every time I say kink

[thissccounthatesfascists]

TL asleep? cool.

(long post, strap in)

i wanna talk about colin's wet dream. that was the most demisexual shit i have EVER seen. there's not even any sex. its just a romanticized, elevated version of their first kiss. its colin's subconscious wanting to replay the moment he fell in love with his best friend in the Most way possible.

lets break it down:

we got the same location of their first kiss. Complete with mood lighting and a fog machine. It’s giving pride and prejudice 2005

Penelope comes out (looking gorgeous, of course) to their rendezvous spot, which has been previously agreed on.

colin thanks her for meeting him, she doesn't know why he's asked her to come

he confesses his feelings for her

she reciprocates (this is the important part of this to me. ) her wanting him, makes him want her more (do you see where the demisexual colin energy is coming from? do you understand?)

they make out

he kisses her neck as she pants his name over and over (see my point above re: her wanting him makes him want her more)

he wakes up, absolutely shook

this is an idealized reimagining for colin: during their first kiss he was basically in shock, his new personality chokes on the reality and vulnerability of the moment

in the book he talks about how he tries to think of something witty to say but finds that no words are necessary, and there's no combination of witty banter or suave bravado that could help in that moment. the rake persona that he has put on up to this point absolutely fails him. but here, in this dream, words are crucial, the declarations of love are why its sexy! (demi colin is canon idc idc)

and its so important that this wet dream, the idealized version of this scenario happens like this. because we've also seen colin having sex with sex workers (and luke newton has talked about this) but his energy in those scenes is very detached, very focused on him and his pleasure with zero connection to the women he's with. he has two different threesomes (if you can even call the second one that, he's barely even looking at them) with four different women and we know nothing about these girls. they don't even get names. they don't matter, and its simply not. as. good. as the feeling of kissing pen. there is no connection

which is, i think, why he taps out during the threesome in ep4. he tries to go back to the devil-may-care attitude toward sex and intimacy that he had before kissing pen, he tries to return to that mask he put on of "the rake" and it just doesn't work! he feels nothing! in fact he feels disdain for the position he's in and the choices he's made!

the threesome in ep4 mirrors the outburst he has later at the club really well. like he's so frustrated with this position he's put himself in, the men he's surrounded himself with. he literally says "none of you are gentlemen!" "you're actually gross and disrespectful!"

a line that i love is :

"... it is tiring, is it not? The necessity imposed on us to remain cavalier about the one thing in life that holds genuine meaning. Do you not find it lonely?"

and they laugh! in! his! face! because these are men that feel perfectly fine sleeping with strangers and bragging about their "conquests" to their buddies

but that is not who colin is! he's still very young. and his experience with marina (who tried to seduce him and it didn't work, imo bc he just didn't feel that passion, that love that makes his relationship with penelope so different) has left him jaded, but not nearly as jaded as he wants to believe. even if he wants to be casual about romance and sex, he just isn't. this man proposed to marina after knowing her for what? a couple weeks? He is an All or Nothing type of guy. He has that Bridgerton 'when i fall in love i will only ever talk about my spouse' Gene

Now: some costuming details that i love:

Her hair:

(i know this is a stretch but go with me here) her hair is in slightly tighter curls than we've seen this season, which to me seems like a nod to colin liking (or at least not minding) her hair the way it was in previous seasons and maybe not caring as much as we might think about her transformation. but its still down and flowy and in line with her new style

let's talk about this! dress! (it has genuinely been keeping me up at night)

the sleeves seem much more similar to the silhouettes of her costumes in previous seasons, not necessarily in shape but in style

the sleeves are bulkier, compared to this season's costumes, which while they might have been the same size and shape, they are made of much lighter material, giving the silhouette a softer, more mature feeling.

compare it to this dress from s3 ep2: it looks very similar with the sleeve shape and the floral appliqués, but in the dress in the image above, the appliqués are much more obvious, closer to penelope's style under her mother's tastes

the point i'm trying to make here will be made more clear in a sec. what I am NOT trying to say that colin prefers her in her little girl dresses with loud designs, bright colors, and silly hairdos. he just associates those bigger, brighter, louder style choices with penelope.

And he has always liked Penelope. Even when he didn’t take her seriously as a potential partner, he always saw her as an equal. He never made fun of her silly dresses and questionable hair choices.

This has nothing to do with Colin but i feel like i should point it out:

there is something to be said about how her muted pastel color palette along with the more demure style that she has adopted shows that she is trying to Show Up with this social season, but as a wallflower, she is shy. she's always hated those brightly colored dresses her mother put her in, because no matter how close to the wall she clung, she was always visible. she was always vulnerable to ridicule.

but i don't think colin knows or realizes this because why would he think critically about the specific style changes she's made. and he probably doesn't really make the connection of the influence her mother has on her clothing. and around him, pen has never seemed all that shy. she's been confident and witty. if you pair her personality that shines around colin with her louder outfits, it seems more congruous

(take the scene from season 2 where we get the line "My purpose shall set me free") this is a side of penelope that no one, not even eloise!, sees

what his subconscious knows is that he associates pen with vibrant, textured, and often 3-dimensional outfits, and his subconscious creates a dress that fits her new style, with a little more of that featherington flair thrown in.

the fucking tie in front: i feel like this is a very clear reference/ foreshadowing to the mirror scene

for those of you who haven't read the book, the mirror scene doesn't actually happen, but colin tells penelope about a fantasy he has about touching her in front of a mirror

this is a pretty small offhand comment made while they're having sex for the first time but amongst book fans the scene has become pretty fleshed out i think, with fanfics especially

because the idea that it touches on is colin fantasizing about penelope seeing herself the way he does, as sexy and desirable (he seriously cares about her pleasure so much its sickening, I'm actually sick)

and although Book Colin doesn't mention it, the idea of him undressing her in front of a mirror has become a popular story set-up

i think the tie in the front sort of plays on the time period sensibilities of propriety: this is a time where in "good" society an unmarried man and woman would never touch skin to skin, its why all the women wear gloves most of the time. its why the scenes in season 1 between daphne and simon play on the excitement of removing the gloves: its a taboo thing

this is unrelated to this post but i need an explanation as to why pen isn't wearing gloves in a lot of her scenes this season, like the scandal that that would cause??? I'm assuming its representative of her growing into her sexuality; and bridgerton is a fantasy, not a historical nonfiction, but like some consistency would be nice guys bc i was so confused abt all the skin-on-skin contact happening. even with Francesca and Lord Samadani WHEN HE KISSES HER BARE HAND I WAS SO UNCOMFORTABLE FOR HER. especially because of all the glove-related tension in s1. but i digress.

so the tie in front is sort of a dare. even though its clearly an addition, and untying wouldn't actually remove her dress, its her (colin's subconscious version of her anyway) way of saying: "you could untie this, you could undress me if you wanted to" "i love you" "i want you"

and i think that's beautiful. this season is great and i will die on this hill.

If you've made it this far, congrats! you're just as feral as me! come and gnaw on the drywall with me while i post fanfics inspired by this season: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55988977/chapters/142190584

chapters 1+2 of my new fic are up

photos are from : https://www.cap-that.com/bridgerton/302/index.php?image=bridgerton3x02_1502.jpg

#colin bridgerton #bridgerton #bridgerton spoilers #penelope featherington coded #polin #bridgerton season 3 #bridgerton s3 #bridgerton meta #costume design #demisexuality #demisexual representation #demisexual colin bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 analysis #romancing mister bridgerton #romancing mr. bridgerton #adaptation analysis #some historical context analysis as a treat for me specifically

[silentalltheseyearsnomore]

I don't really want to tag this as I feel like I don't trust a whole lot of what is on this little app but a few follow me who I feel are authentic and relate to me so maybe I'll get lucky and you'll relate or have any idea wtaf happens with us lol

I am too exhausted to explain properly but... we have this thing where we get stuck writing. non stop. through an entire day, entire night, not allowed to stop for water or food or rest. only ever to our therapist of the time.

usually, in the past, it was always triggered by "confessing" (every single reason we are evil, that DID doesnt exist, that our history never happened.. every single thought we have.. etc, it was terrifying, we couldnt even stop to reach a hand out.) and we did a lot of work with our longterm therapist back then to understand what parts were at play, that it seemed very linked to some programming, but we never untangled it all. we saw the similarities of not being allowed water, not being allowed food, going insane, the feeling of spinning in circles, losing all realities, confessing, insanity.. etc... and it was always like breaking a spell. The second we managed to stop it, we saw it all clearly and couldn't understand how we were under such a spell. But trying to stop it felt like death. Because to stop it we had to believe it was a program and STOP. And believing, meant being even more evil, because it's not real. But once we did...we were okay. It was fucking terrifying.

But today we had similar in a different way. It wasn't about confessing but more.... trying to get every reality from every part on paper or not being allowed to send to our therapist. It would be a lie. And spinning in circles trying to explain and add another reality and another and another. And we thought eh this is just the product of a lot of fear, and a lot of parts all at once. But.... again we ended up a few seconds away from being unconscious from a faint from not drinking or eating, in the dark in a carpark after not stopping all day.

We also think we identified old sabotaging programs a past therapist noticed activate in us very often during therapy. But I just..

It's so hard to believe any of it is true.

Is this... does this sound at all not insane to someone?

#we are in a permanent state of denial lately due to ending therapy and not havkng enough support so #we can barely say parts we have to say realities #we cant say ra we have to say the extreme stuff #we have to say “if its real” in front of everything #i feel like i am in endless realities soinning around and dont know what is real #i just want it to stop #but dont beliebe its real enouhh to make it stop

[irgendwiepoetisch]

why is there so little going on in my life that a simple crush on a person i barely know takes up so much space in my brain...why

#i'm sitting here making up little daydream scenarios FOR TWO WHOLE DAYS NOW what is wrong with me why is my life not more interesting #i WISH i was a mysterious person with lots going on but in reality i'm just at home giggling into a pillow being silly #i mean granted i am on my period rn BUT STILL WTF #i wish i could tell the romantic part of my brain to just SHUT UP IT'S NOT THAT SERIOUS WE BARELY KNOW THEM STOP IT #but apparently it doesn't work that way....sigh #i don't even know if they're single??? can we at least make that clear before jumping to the daydreams??? PLEASE!!??? #feels like i'm losing my mind #i used to think that in my late twenties i'd have all this stuff figured out.....HAH #but hey at least i'm still capable of having silly crushes after this long stretch of time of not being interested in anyone! #i just hope i'll find out soon that they're not single or sth so i can move past it #bc there's no way a sweet person like that could like me #...even if my brain wants them to #anyway #even in my late twenties i still don't know how to handle having a crush and what does that say about me? #ok enough ranting good night

[emmyrosee]

Bakugou is, for all intents and purposes, a massive baby.

God forbid you leave him for ten minutes before he starts wandering around the house looking for you. Mercy on you if you go out to the grocery store and don’t take him. And how dare you even consider get up to get a snack when he's in the bathroom, letting your shared spot get cold.

These things, he can not let go easily.

Naturally, this slips your mind every once in a while because a peaceful life with Bakugou Katsuki doesn't exist. When you forget, he makes it his mission to force you to remember his clingy ass.

Tonight, it would appear to be no different.

It's 02:30 when you snap back to reality, bleary eyes blinking to get your bearings back.

The lamp on the side table blinds you momentarily, there's music coming from the tv- credits, you deduce, from the show Denki had raved to you both about. When you angle your head up, you're met with a firm jawline that lets out a loud snore from the slight disturbance.

Katsuki never was good at staying awake during these things.

Smiling up at him, you're quick to place a tender little kiss on his chin, watching as the corners of his mouth twitches slightly. Gently, you slip out of his arms and cover him with the blanket, using the parted lips releasing the smallest little snores to ensure his slumber. He smacks his lips and turns slightly on his side, as if chasing the warmth you'd taken away, and you click the tv off to keep him in the dark. You shuffle your way into your bedroom to get your own rest; you shiver once you slip under the covers, the fabric cold from the lack of use and lack of Katsuki's body heat.

The minute you do warm up, however, you're out like a light, and you remain so for a few hours.

But then, there's someone at the end of your bed. You feel them, and it wakes you just barely. You shift the blankets higher on your shoulder for protection from whatever your subconsious picks up, and just when you feel normal, something speaks.

“I’m gonna kill you.”

The raspy voice coming from the foot of your bed is more than enough to snap you from your sleep, but it isn’t until you see the massive, bulky frame that your heart sinks and you scream, you scream as loud as you can, immediately scrambling to the corner of your bed.

“Stop screaming, it’s me.”

Your shaking hands immediately shoot to the lamp next to your bed and upon flicking it on, you’re greeted by a sleepy Katsuki, blanket around his shoulders and sleepy scowl on his face, as if you’re the one who just inconvenienced him.

“You freak! What are you doing!” You snap, quickly rubbing your eyes to knock the sleep from them to properly scold. He merely shrugs and smacks his tired lips, indifferent to the previous heart attack he’d given you.

“Left me alone on the couch,” he says, dropping the blanket onto the floor before crawling into bed next to you, casually. “We were snuggling. You abandoned me.”

“You-! I was-! Why-!”

“You’re lucky I love you so much,” he says, burying his face into his pillow and making a grabby hand for you, “c’mere, wanna spoon.”

Your heart, still pounding in your chest, finally lets breaths of air in, your hands trembling as you flick back off the light. You’re still mad, now shaking with fury, and as you roll to have your back facing him, you try to take deep breaths to calm down and not smother the man you somehow chose to love with a pillow.

“Hey,” he grumbles, tugging your sleep shirt. “Come here.”

“I can’t fucking stand you, Katsuki. I don’t even want to be in the same bed as you right now, you scared the fucking shit out of me.”

“Didn’t mean to,” he says softly. “Jus’ wanted to be close to you.”

“And you thought threATENING ME AT THE END OF OUR BED WAS A GOOD WAY TO DO THAT?”

He goes silent, and you almost think he’s given up, and just as you blink your stinging eyes, he suddenly rolls on top of you, knocking the wind out of you at his heaviness.

“Katsuki!” You scold, but it’s shrouded in laughter, an absolute contrast of how you just were talking all of ten seconds ago.

“Now you can’t leave,” he says, cockily. “You wake me again and I will kill you.”

“You woke me up just now! You could’ve easily come to bed like any sane person!”

“….”

“Katsuki!”

“Cant hear you, I’m asleep.”

“KATSUKI!”

#im gonna bark #katsuki being a big baby is part of my pretty girl era #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki fluff #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader fluff #bakugou katsuki x gn!reader #bakugou katsuki imagine #bakugou katsuki bnha #bakugou #bakugou fluff #bakugou x reader #bakugou x gn!reader #bakugou x reader fluff #bakugou imagine #bakugou bnha #bnha #bnha fluff #bnha imagine #bnha x reader #bnha x gender neutral reader #bnha x gn!reader #bnha x yn #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #bnha x reader fluff

[atticrissfinch]

The Morning After | (joel miller x reader) (18+)

Part 5.5 of Meet Me in the Back

pairing: sleazy gas station clerk!joel miller x fem!reader summary: The morning after Valentine’s Day. warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] age gap (no specifics), daddy!kink, oral (m receiving) (we did it folks it only took 5 parts to get a blowjob), joel being weak as shit for bjs, degradation!kink (use of slut/whore), smoking, brief mentions of past consensual sex under the influence, mentions of weed, some more fluff ig word count: ~3.3k | ao3 a/n: not many notes, just enjoy some cute sexiness ♥️

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Kofi

You’re not in your own bed. That much you can tell right away. The sheets are too scratchy and smell too musky. And when you shuffle under said scratchy, musky sheets, you bump against something. That’s when you remember. 

“Mornin’, Sugarplum.”

A few sleep-saturated sounds work their way from your throat as you stretch your arms above your head and roll to your opposite side. Joel is beside you under the covers, an arm behind his head on his pillow as he looks up from his phone with a lazy smile. 

You squint at the time on his screen. 9 AM. “Why are you awake?”

Joel breathes a laugh out of his nose. “Sleep schedule’s a little different than yours, darlin’. Drifted in and out all night.”

You scrunch your eyebrows and rub the heel of your palm over your eyes. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about that. I guess I just kind of passed out after…”

Joel smirks at you, “After the third round of Jill and the Beanstalk?”

You give him an unimpressed look. “Think you got a whole beanstalk, huh?”

Joel shrugs with a cocky little grin. “Been climbin’ me like a tree since we met. Figured a beanstalk might be more true to size.”

“Arrogant old man,” you mutter sleepily, turning back to your other side. 

“Mmm,” you hear him hum, and he presses up behind you, just as naked as you seem to be under his bedding, judging by the notable hardness prodding at the small of your back. “Didn’t hear you hollerin’ anything different last night, did I?”

Your answering scoff lacks conviction as he hooks his bare leg over yours and breathes deeply into your hair. 

“Don’t think I did. Just heard a helluva lot of oh, daddy, that dick is so big. Fuck me with that huge cock, daddy,” he mocks in a horrid interpretation of what you actually sound like with a smile you can feel plastered on his lips against your skin. You’re unsure whether you’re more embarrassed by his impression of you or from remembering all the shit you said after he’d danced with you, fed you his come straight from your dripping cunt in the middle of the street, and subsequently got the both of you fairly crossfaded before falling back into bed together. 

“Shut up,” you mumble, burying your face in a pillow. 

“Don’t get shy on me,” he sings in your ear, smoothing a hand down your side and squeezing at your hip. His dick twitches at your back, and your ass presses back of its own accord in response. That pulls a groan from Joel directly into your ear, and just that sound has your pussy blinking awake in intrigue. 

You feel the ache there from last night. You probably should’ve known better than to take his cock — his ungodly large cock — three times in one night, but he just felt so good and he kept saying the right things, the perfect things, and that masochistic traitor between your legs wouldn’t calm the fuck down. 

And here she goes fucking again. Whispering that she wants him for breakfast, despite having him for dinner, dessert, and a midnight snack. 

You huff and crane your head around to meet his eyes, flooded with good-natured humor. The softness in them makes you sigh, cup his scruffy cheek in your hand, and capture his lips with yours. He moans into it with ease, moving with you in drowsy tandem. As his tongue clips the inside of your mouth, you taste mint, and reality hits you. 

“You brushed your teeth?” you ask, pulling back, suddenly self-conscious about your own morning breath. 

He strokes a thumb over your cheek with an unbothered smile and says, “Been up for a couple hours now. Was hopin’ I’d get lucky again. Wanted to boost my chances.”

“How about you get a girl some breakfast and we can talk?”

“Yeah?” he asks, his voice gritty and already dipping lower with arousal. His hands slide around you as he presses a kiss to your throat. “How d’you like your eggs, sweetheart? Fried or fertilized?”

“Jesus Christ,” you groan, shoving his face away from your neck, and he chuckles at your disgust, placing a peck on your shoulder instead. 

“Alright,” Joel concedes in a sing-song voice, untangling himself from the sheets and straddling you for a quick second to kiss you on the nose before sliding off the bed, his cock bobbing with the movement. “You doze off for a minute. I’ll make breakfast for the pretty girl.”

He doesn’t even put on underwear, he just waltzes out of his room and down the hall, presenting you with the perfect opportunity to admire his ass on the way. That is, until he brazenly scratches and tugs at his ballsack as he walks and you have to refrain from ridiculing him. He is in his own home, after all. You’re a guest. He can scratch his balls all he wants. 

So. You’re in his bed still. You’d slept in his bed. That had not been your intention when you drove here last night, thirsty for attention. But it had been the safe thing to do after smoking and drinking and fucking throughout the evening. And, to be truthful, you didn’t mean to fall asleep. You were on orgasm five, or maybe six, of the night. The pot didn’t help the sleepiness factor. And after going multiple rounds with Joel, you conked out. Anyone would’ve done it. And you slept like a baby, anyway. You can justify this. 

You spot your phone on Joel’s nightstand next to a pack of cigarettes, a crumpled receipt, a cluttered ashtray, his keys and wallet, and various loose change — a small peek into what is clearly Joel’s post-work dumping ground. And in the brief moment of blackness before your phone screen alights, you catch a look at your reflection and realize that you never took off your makeup. Jesus, you must look like a fucking wreck after getting the shit fucked out of you an irresponsible amount and then sleeping in an unfamiliar bed. 

And Joel didn’t say a goddamn word about it. 

You stumble out of Joel’s bed and are immediately met with much cooler air than you’d prefer. You spy one of Joel’s tattered t-shirts on the floor along with his sweats from last night, so you pull them on to combat the chill. Through his open bedroom door you see Joel streak across the living room in his birthday suit, rummaging a cigarette from the pack on the coffee table and standing with his back to you as he lights it. You see him raise his arm to take a puff and tilt his head straight up to billow the smoke into the air. 

Stupid, hot-blooded fuck. Strutting around all naked and…upsettingly sexy. Like he doesn’t have a fucking baseball bat swinging from his crotch. One that had him sliding right into your home plate last night over and over and —

You press your eyes shut and shake your head. Fuck no. That old fuck is not infiltrating your mind with dumb metaphors. He’s not infiltrating it at all. 

When you’re done scrubbing your face as clean as you can without your usual supplies and fixing your hair into something acceptable, you meander to the kitchen and lean against the entryway. 

He’s facing away from you, braving the feat of cooking eggs and a few sausage links on the stove with his whole bare chest out and his dick gone mostly flaccid. Joel prods at the pan with a spatula with one hand, poising a smoldering cigarette over an empty shot glass to catch the ash with the other. 

“Are you smoking over my breakfast?”

“I’m smokin’ over our breakfast, thank you very much,” he sasses, his eyes fixed on the scrambling eggs while he taps ash into the tiny glass and then takes another drag. He turns his head to look at you, but when he does, his eyes blow wide and the smoke shoots from his mouth all at once in surprise. “Good golly goddamn. You deadset on givin’ me a heart attack this whole visit of yours, Sugarplum? Sluttin’ around in my clothes like that?”

“Watch your sausage, Chef Joel,” you brush him off with a muted smile, crossing your arms across your chest. 

“Oh, I already know exactly what he’s doin’ right now,” he quips with arousal ablaze in his stare.

You roll your eyes and saunter over to him, just to pluck the half-smoked cigarette from his fingers with a wink and wander to his couch to finish it off for him. 

Back in the kitchen, you can hear him mutter over the sizzle of the skillet, “Hail Mary, full o’grace…”

You giggle to yourself and settle into the now-dry site of one of your many debaucheries the night before, lying back just as you were around twelve hours ago, but this time with a cloud of cigarette smoke looming overhead instead of weed. 

You hear the clinking of silverware and the scrape of a pan. Then Joel calls out, “Get back in here, little temptress. Food’s ready.”

You tamp the cigarette and join him at his tiny two-seater table against the wall of his kitchen, decidedly not acknowledging the way his eyes devour you along the way, if only for the sake of your nether regions. You sit opposite his still-naked figure, appearing entirely nonchalant in nothing more than his skin, so you keep your amused smile to yourself.  

Joel seems more interested in staring at you donning his clothes than having any real conversation, so you eat in relative silence, metal against plastic plates until they’re picked clean. 

You prop your elbow on the table and cup your chin. “Thank you for making breakfast. That was very sweet.”

“I’m sweet as apple fuckin’ pie, baby. ‘Bout time you pick up on that, I think,” he teases, resting one arm on the table while the other ostentatiously slips under it to pull at his cock. “We gonna discuss the other half of this little deal we got goin’ on?”

“What deal? I didn’t agree to anything,” you smirk, watching the shift of his bicep as he strokes himself. 

“Bullshit you didn’t,” he scowls, falling back in his chair enough that the head of his cock peeks over the table, disappearing and reappearing in the grip of his leisurely fist. 

“Doesn’t feel good, does it? Being cheated out of your end of what you thought was a deal,” you say, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Should’ve had me shake on it, old man.”

“Oh, I’ll have you shakin’ on it, you little slut. Come thank me properly for your breakfast,” he purrs back at you, scooting his chair out further to make space for you. 

You suck a rogue piece of food free from your tooth as you admire your nails in disinterest before looking up at him through your eyelashes. “She needs a break.”

“I’ll take any hole you’re offerin’, sweetheart.”

You consider that, tossing it around in your head, and you push yourself up from the table. You take your sweet time rounding the tiny thing until you’re standing in front of him. He tilts his head to the side with a broad smile, waiting for your next move. You clear your throat and unceremoniously drop to your knees between his legs. 

“How about this one?” You pose to him as you wet your lips and plant your hands on his thighs. 

“Fuck yeah,” he groans, tapping the leaking head of his cock at your bottom lip. “That’ll be just fine.”

You dart your tongue to taste the smear of precome on your lips, and the moan you let out might be a little exaggerated, but the roll of his eyes in sheer ecstasy has you thinking it was worth exaggerating. 

“Shit, baby. Lemme see this cock between those pretty lips.”

You don’t torture him as much as you maybe should. But you wouldn’t be honest if you said your mouth wasn’t salivating at the sight of him. So you open as wide as you can and close your lips around his tip, laving your tongue over his slit as you suck at him. 

“Fuck,” he groans out, already sounding destroyed at what you’re doing and what’s to follow. “So pretty, sweetheart.” He moves a hand under your chin and indents the flesh of your cheeks with his fingers. 

You moan around him and hollow your cheeks, sucking harder at his head and tasting more precome dribbling out onto your tongue. You lick it up and pop him out of your mouth as you look up at him. “You taste good, daddy.”

He hums a rumbling sound and pinches in the sides of your face with his fingers again. “Let daddy feed you a little more then, huh?”

You nod your head at him and drop your jaw, descending on him again, but deeper. The stretch required to take him this way is even more than you had imagined, but you’re determined to take as much of him as you can. You think it’s time to show some gratitude to your pussy, for her faithful service in servicing Joel, and take the bullet for this one. 

The prominent veins of Joel’s cock feel thicker when pressed against your tongue. His scent is so much more concentrated here, and it has you a little dizzy. You allow your eyes to flutter closed as you inhale through your nose and start to bob on him with concave cheeks. When he nudges at the back of your throat, Joel’s voice pitches up in a way you’ve never quite heard him do before. It’s unsteady and uninhibited and hot as fuck. 

He slips free of your mouth and spit adorns your lips and his cock as you catch your breath. “You’re kind of a little bitch for blowjobs aren’t you?” You tease him as you gather the saliva in your mouth and spill it in an obscene display down the length of his cock. 

“Fuck me,” Joel grinds out, tipping the glistening head of him toward your mouth again impatiently, “How could you tell?”

“Sounds are different,” you mutter with a proud grin. “Talking less shit,” you add with a wink before diving back down onto him again. 

“Smart little slut,” Joel grunts brokenly as he skims against the back of your mouth again, rocking his hips gently in time with your bobbing motions and threatening the stretch of your throat with his thick head. You feel your eyes watering as you fight back a cough, your nails digging crescents into Joel’s tense thighs as he wages his own battle to control the thrust of his hips. 

You come up for air, licking up the underside of him and flicking into his slit just to watch his cock jump. “There’s so fucking much of it, daddy,” you whine as you mouth at the circumference of him. 

“Daddy knows that’s how you like it, baby,” he rasps, drawing spit across your cheek with his thumb. “Knew you’d be a slut for this big cock the second I split open that little hole the first time.”

You hum against his length as you lick and suck at him. You can’t bring yourself to fully comprehend how much you’d have to practice to take every inch of him into your mouth. So you resign yourself to employing what you have in your current skill set. Maybe you’ll put in some more rehearsal time with the new silicone dildo you have in your nightstand, which you’re loath to admit you purchased primarily to fill the void shaped like Joel when you’re alone. But he doesn’t need to know about that, and his ego certainly doesn’t either. 

Despite your lack of ability to suck this man into your throat as deep as you’d like, Joel does not seem disappointed in the slightest. In fact, he already looks and sounds like his resolve is shattering with every passing minute. You bounce your head up and down on him, moaning and sucking at his thickness while his noises grow more needy and insistent and so unlike what he typically sounds like when he’s buried to the hilt inside of you. 

You allow him to fall from your mouth just so you can glide your lips along his shaft, lower and lower until you meet his balls. You fix your eyes on him as you encase one of them in the warm wetness of your mouth and do your best to stroke the length of him with your hand. 

“God fuckin’ damn it, baby,” he grits out, running harsh fingers through his hair and wrapping a large hand around your own to help you jack him off. “Shit, I’m not gonna last, you gotta…”

You giggle a little as you suck his other ball into your mouth and run broad strokes of your tongue over it. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” he whines, his voice cracking midway through, and yanks at your head with urgency. “In your mouth, darlin’ girl. Need it in your mouth.”

You spring up and take his head back in, sucking around it with vigor as you jerk him off in tandem. 

“Fuck, like that. Fuck, like that, shit,” Joel says, his voice almost begging with desperation, until he gives a ragged shout and you feel the first shot of him down your throat. Joel’s breaths are vocal and heavy as rope after rope of his come floods your mouth. You whimper around him as drops fall free from the corners of your mouth with the incessant pulses of his cock. 

When he’s finally spent, he slips out of you with care, and you seal your lips shut to keep what he’s given you inside. His eyes are tired, his chest heaving as you lock onto his gaze and make a show of swallowing him down, swiping at the stray drops and sucking them clean as well, and presenting your empty mouth to him. 

“Jesus, why have I never had you do that before?” Joel pants, raking his fingers through his sweaty curls. “So obsessed with that diamond cooch of yours. Never thought that sassy little mouth could compete.”

“Well, that’s your fault for underestimating me,” you say, placing a chaste kiss to his tip and hauling yourself off the floor to give your knees a reprieve. 

“Hell if it ain’t,” he says, gripping your hips and holding you hostage between his legs as he gazes up at you with the kind of affection one only really sees after giving newsworthy head. He rucks his shirt up over your stomach and presses a kiss there, right above the band of his sweats. “Thanks for keepin’ daddy warm last night.”

You shake your head in dismissal of his sentiment but thread your fingers through his hair. “Thank you for letting me crash.”

“Can crash my party anytime, sweet Sugarplum.”

You sway with a hint of bashfulness at the implication of his words and decide it’s better to derail than continue on the current track. “I’m gonna hop in the shower if that’s okay.”

“S’okay if I can join,” he stipulates, hooking a finger into the band of your pants and pulling it outward, peeking down inside them. “Miss her already.”

“Shut up,” you say, batting him away and breaking free toward the hallway. “She’s overworked and tired.”

“How’s about I give her a nice Joel Miller spa treatment,” he offers, trailing after you

“A spa treatment? For my pussy?” you ask skeptically over your shoulder, “The fuck would that even entail?”

Joel shrugs a shoulder and grins devilishly. “Pretty much just me eatin’ you out while it’s all steamy.”

You pause with your hand on the doorknob, eyeing him from head to toe in all his naked glory, weighing his offer. Ultimately you shrug back with a little upside down grin as you push into the bathroom. “Alright. Sign me up for one Joel Miller Pussy Spa Treatment.”

Joel gives a two-finger salute with a cheeky grin and follows behind you. “At your service, ma’am.”

Next Part _______

Taglist Update: I have decided to decommission my taglist in favor of an updates blog! Please follow @atticrissfinchupdates and opt in for notifications to get notified when I post a new fic! Visit here for instructions on how to get a tab just for the blogs you've subscribed to at the top of your tumblr page!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us #sleazy!joel miller #tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #katy wroted fic #mmitb

[dexaroth]

it's kind of a fun move to make my very very personal blog also the one I post my drawings on

ive purposefully done it to not create that kind of environment where it's just an account posting art, a one-dimensional abstract thing that's so detached that if I were to post something like 'teehee I tried to off myself so I'm opening comms to pay the bills' it'd be met with utmost surprise bc it'd break the illusion yknow?

but sometimes I do want some drawings to not have context. to be as impersonal as a vintage figure whose sculptor has never been fully known or a golden locket with the picture of someone who you don't know anything about

I want both, to be honest. it's always been a struggle of the need of external validation but also to not want to taint everything with myself

I want to draw a pet portrait for someone and not have it be judged with all the ramblings and half-jokes about how everything sucks every now and then.

I want to draw a guy being mechanically separated for no reason and not have it show up besides someone's pet portrait and having to explain to the average person I don't even know why I like gore so much besides rendering it is fun

it's all like a cycle of making it clear who is behind the art for context but also sometimes wanting everything to speak for itself and wanting a sort of pure reaction to it

and it culminates into that overly familiar feeling.. of wanting to be consistent. to have a feel, a look that you can maybe hope someone will identify as yours.. and the question is always the same - for what? why? why does it matter?

if anything the first thing I'd ever say to someone who remotely showed interest in art and wanted to know my side of it is that nothing matters and everything is subjective and that there will always be people who see too much meaning where there isn't and people who miss the point entirely. and that diversity is just as good as quality and not a binary switch that you have to pick for the rest of your life. and that often by trying to achieve perfection you just end up dumping what gave your art a personal touch because it wasn't absolutely on par with the version of you that you so desperately want people to identify you with or the vibe you want to give off or whatever else

it's kind of a problem that also has different connotations depending on the way wherever you post works, too

on devart and I think insta too favorites and likes are the easiest way to show a kind of support that happens to streamline everything into images on a page instead of actually taking in most detail, the title or description or lack thereof, maybe even a message or line or music lyric intended to aid in the perception.. that ends up getting completely ignored because it takes extra effort to do. and it gets exponentially worse the more people you follow

then, well.. tumblr. because of the way the posts are organized and at least show captions it has a bit of a leg up, but then the sideblog stuff comes up. posts 95% of the time only give traction to the account that posted it, so a sideblog where you reblog your art is pretty much just a gallery for the convenience of whoever follows them. if you post on that sideblog however, then that facilitates no one visiting your main and just looking at the drawings, leading to the art-artist detachment as it is also plenty of extra steps and effort

then, independently, the path you choose is hard to undo. choose to be unknown and be bound to the façade you have to keep and not break your persona, or put all bits of yourself out to the public and there will forever be an image/ background version of you that will contextualize everything you do

try to turn around and choose to hide and it will put people off and affect how some will look at your new stuff now that you're less of a social butterfly because of the instinct of curiosity and wanting to know what happened , choose to show yourself and now you're too real and people don't want to associate with you because of the things you express or how it hits different knowing x and y or just not caring about you enough to be bothered to keep up with your life with sporadic drawings inbetween

it's all ironically about your own self-image and knowing others who know you

oh and it just hit me the financial side of things too. but that's too much for me rn and it's sort of a bonus to my point anyways

idk man. I feel like I'm having a stroke while an influencer tries to explain branding to me

#the public vs hidden thing is also like trying to balance the evils #do you want to enable being made fun of by quirky neurotypicals and edgelords bc of ur 'archetype' #or do you want to enable everyone to put any meaning to your art including dogshit ones and treat it like a commodity #public enough to have your name or style used pejoratively to describe other people #or hidden enough to blend in and represent nothing and say nothing. just like a blank piece of paper #these two sort of types are everywhere and there just doesnt seem to be a grey area. its just.... awkward. #ah yes look at my painting and tell me what you think of it! dont take me into consideration at all though. pretend this came out of thin> #>air bc thats how i want it to be perceived. bc of course we all know thats a thing that can be controlled by sheer will right? lol #i want to draw whatever. i want to stop giving a shit. not care of what people think its all about. but i want to be seen as well. .. #and its frustrating bc i find it immeasurably valuable to find meaning in the mundane #to find the whimsy and care on someone's 'bad' stickman cat doodle even tough sketches dont mean barely anything to the artist #and then i get sad when someone below my skill level finds My sketches good despite me posting them as a 'look at how bad this looks lol' #just. being desperate for wanting everything to go your way #like a filmmaker who swears the theater is an integral part of their movie when in reality a guy watching at home cherishes it just as much #i think id turn inside out of disgust if i ever truly legitimally considered all the 'wrong' ways people can experience my art #compressed to hell or they just didnt bother to zoom in and didnt notice the brushstrokes and effects #which is totally normal and common and i myself do it! but my ego says nuh uh. go feel bad bc other ppl have agency lol #i can definitely pretend i dont care anymore and even try to believe it so much i unconsciously start assimilating it #but the Moment someone comments something that contradicts what i thought and wished was happening i just. break . #im truly trying to stave off negative thoughts and teaching myself that what others think of me doesnt define me #and one day im overhearing something i wasnt meant to know and its that someone thinks im a child #and ends up treating me like one. like im too stupid to do anything #and then i look back at my eyestrain/cartoonish stuff thats in fact considered childish by people who try to use age as> #a token of 'i dont enjoy X because X is for kids because/therefore im an AdulT! respect me!' #and i just have to face the reality that thats the image of me my art gives off by itself and what society chose it to symbolize as well #which it all leads to wanting so deeply a way to control how others view you because of how age gate-keeping for example is so stupid #and it bleeds into every other feeling and paranoia and self doubt #either you act cool and lie about who you are or let others label you what they see fit especially what they consider to be deserving of> #>ridicule #dextxt

[kyuuppi]

How they react when you're jealous

Ft. Wanderer (Scaramouche); Xiao; Zhongli; Childe; Venti; Albedo; Tighnari

(gender neutral reader but Childe refers to them as "princess"/"prince" once)

⭐ Wanderer

+ This man is actually insufferable, good-fucking-luck

+ He acts so smug 'cause of course you'd be jealous, he's revered and worshipped by the masses!! (he's not)

+ Will probably cockily tell you you'll just have to get used to it, he's a god afterall so it's expected that he'll have many loyal fans all vying for his attention—

+ It's all a farce

+ In reality, he's kind of in shock that you'd really be jealous over him, the useless puppet discarded by his own mother—but that's his unresolved insecurity and mommy issues talking

+ He'll keep up the façade and tease you for a while until he realizes you're genuinely upset—then he'll find some roundabout way to tell you that you have nothing to worry about, he only has eyes for you...of course he'll never directly admit that, though

"Hah, you're jealous? What a foolish human emotion—of course I'll be adored by thousands..."

The Wanderer cuts himself off as he takes in your tense form, brows furrowed and eyes looking anywhere but him as you quietly seethe. His chest clenches in that weird way it only seems to do when you're involved.

"Wait...don't tell me you're actually angry...?"

You don't show any signs you even heard his question and the Wanderer sighs dramatically, averting his own gaze to hide his reddening cheeks as he mumbles his next words.

"You have nothing to worry about, idiot...you're way above any of those other weaklings anyway."

⭐ Xiao

+ I'm sorry but he literally is incapable of understanding that you're jealous

+ Like...he can barely even process that you like him, let alone recognize the advances of another random human who is interested in him. The time he even spends with others is extremely limited unless you're involved so there aren't many chances for anyone to talk to him

+ If it's something like another adepti or half-adepti, like Ganyu, who he's been spending a lot more time with lately training, you might feel insecure by your own mortality, which Xiao can somewhat understand but still doesn't get the jealousy part

+ Tries his best to try to comfort you though, even if it means shyly asking Zhongli or Verr Goldet

+ Surprisingly ends up coming to the best solution—spending more time with you

You nearly jump out of your skin when you turn to find the figure of your boyfriend standing behind you on the balcony of Wangshu Inn. You're certain he wasn't there just five minutes ago.

"Huh? Shouldn't you be training Ganyu today...?" You ask, feeling slightly sick at the mention of the pretty half-adeptus girl. She was a sweetheart and a great friend but you can't help but to think about how much time she's been spending with Xiao. You're sure she doesn't have any ulterior motives but you can't help but to think about how much prettier and stronger she is compared to you. Surely Xiao sees it too...

"We agreed to take a break for today," Xiao immediately answers, slowly stepping forward until his cheat is nearly touching the back of your arm, so close you can smell the faint traces of his natural scent—something fresh and crisp like the mountain air.

"Instead...I want to spend some time with you—if you'll allow it." He says softly. You momentarily freeze, not used to Xiao initiating dates. Unperturbed, he continues speaking.

"I thought we could do that mortal activity you told me about before. I think it was called...a picnic?"

⭐ Zhongli

+ The god who has ruled over humans for over 2,000 years—of course he's familiar with such a common emotion like jealousy. Even if he himself has yet to experience it

+ He would never assume you were jealous unless you openly tell him about it

+ But then he's quick to assuage your worries and maybe even propose some sort of compromise that can satisfy you both

+ Spends a night absolutely spoiling you until you hardly remember you were ever jealous in the first place, if that's what you so desire

"Ah, it seems you may have misunderstood my relationship with the funeral director, I apologize if I caused you any discomfort," Zhongli tells you earnestly, gently holding your hands in his own, much larger ones and holding your gaze so intensely you find it impossible to look away.

"Now tell me, my dear, how may I settle your worries? Perhaps we should take some time away, just the two of us?"

⭐ Childe

+ Idk how you even got jealous in the first place cause this man is glued to your hip

+ Slightly flattered when he recognizes your signs of jealousy cause he just sees it as proof of how much you care about him

+ It may feel a bit demeaning at first but he will not take your jealousy seriously. He baby talks, pinches your cheeks, and teases you but will not show any genuine concern—not because he doesn't care about your feelings, but because he's so sure that he only has eyes for you that he thinks your jealously is completely unreasonable in the first place

+ As a big fan of PDA, he takes the advantage to be more touchy and affectionate with you in public under the guise of "showing everyone he's yours"

+ If anything, he's the one whose always jealous when another person takes so much as a second of your attention—but you don't need to know that

"Aww, is my prince/ss pouting now? Ahaha, don't look at me like that!" Childe effortlessly dodges the elbow you aim at his ribs after he pinches at the fat of your cheek for the third time today.

Not perturbed in the least, Childe sticks himself to your side and continues to grin down at you, uncaring of the strangers who glance at you two with strange looks as you make your way through the busy streets of Liyur Harbor.

"Here, how about I make it up to you and we go on a lunch date? My treat!"

⭐ Venti

+ Another one who doesn't take your concerns seriously

+ However, unlike most of the other men, it's pretty reasonable to be jealous with how Venti talks to everyone

+ He's naturally romantic and seems to possess no clear boundaries, leading to him saying things that could be construed as flirtatious without him even realizing it

+ When he's tipsy on dandelion wine, it's not unusual to see him belting out ballads and serenading anyone nearby willing to give him the time of day—though, in reality, his love songs are all actually written about you

"Oh, my windblume is feeling a bit jealous?"

You don't bother providing a response but Venti doesn't seem to need one.

"Ehehe, so cute," he coos, shamelessly wrapping his arms around you. Any feelings of jealousy you hold are quickly being replaced with embarrassment at how other patrons in the crowded bar frequently glance at you and your loud boyfriend.

"No worries, my love, this poor bard's heart only beats for you! I'll even prove it with this song I wrote..."

⭐ Albedo

+ It's Sucrose, isn't it?

+ They spend all those hours locked up in a small lab room in the depths of Dragonspine—its only natural that you'd feel suspicious right?

+ Wrong

+ When he's not with you, Albedo literally only thinks about his experiemnts or drawing. In fact, the times you and Albedo are together are really the only time anyone ever sees Albedo actually listen to someone outside of the Knights of Favonius and talk about things that aren't directly related to alchemy

+ As the so-called "chalk prince," it's not that uncommon for people to find him physically attractive and try their luck—but any deeper feelings usually vanish when they realize he has no interest in them. That and his blank stares can get rather unsettling...

+ If you do get jealous about Albedo being around anyone, it will eventually go away on its own as you realize this man is literally incapable of recognizing flirting

+ (Also, Sucrose is literally an angel and would never jeopardize your relationship. Like, she actively ships you guys together, pls—)

"...which is a particularly unique property for this chemical given it's electronegativity. In fact—oh, [Name], what are you doing here?"

You try very hard not to laugh at the relieved expression the woman Albedo was previously lecturing shoots you. She wastes no time slipping out of the lab while Albedo is distracted, his ocean deep eyes staring at you with a mix of surprise and quiet adoration.

"Ah, it's about lunch time and I don't have any commissions today so I thought we could go get something to eat together. Sorry if I'm disturbing you—"

"Not at all," Albedo interrupts, quickly putting away the glass vial he previously held and removing his latex gloves.

"A visit from you is never a disturbance," Albedo admits plainly, oblivious to the way his words make your chest squeeze.

"Now let's go. If we hurry, we might be able to make it to that place you like before they get crowded."

⭐ Tighnari

+ Lmao what are you jealous of, a flower?

+ This is another Science Man™️ who literally sees nothing but his work. Unless there's a rare sentient species of seductive mushrooms in Sumeru with it's sights set on fennec fox boys, you have nothing to worry about

+ Collei sees him as something akin to an older brother figure and Tighnari is too sassy for anyone else to get close unless they're interested in joining the forest watchers

+ If you tell him you're jealous, he's probably going to call you an idiot for even thinking he's interested in anyone else

Tighnari looks almost annoyed at your confession, glancing up from his journal only to shoot you a glare.

"Hah? Did you accidentally eat some hallucinogenic mushrooms again? I don't have enough time entertain things like that. What a ridiculous accusation."

Annoyance bubbles up inside you but, before you can act on it, Tighnari is already standing from his desk, striding over to you quickly to gently pull you along with him.

"Now come with me. I found an interesting flower on the outskirts of camp I think you'd like."

The proud grin highlighted by the sparkle in his eyes as he looks up at you quickly cuts off any protests you were going to make.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #xiao x reader #zhongli x reader #albedo x reader #Tighnari x reader #venti x reader #childe x reader #genshin scenario #genshin imagine #genshin hcs #genshin fluff

[joelscruff]

needy baby (boyfriend's dad!joel x f!reader) 18+

series masterlist | kofi | so this is FILTH. like. please heed the warnings before reading. i would recommend reading the rest of the series in order to really understand reader's headspace here, but if not, the previous part "wait" should be enough to make it make sense, as this does tie into what happened in that part. summary: joel takes care of you in every way you need. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: daddy kink, age gap, dirty talk, praise kink, unprotected p in v, creampies, comeplay, tummy bulge, size kink, mild free use, sub space (reader is very disconnected from reality), cockwarming, pussy eating, squirting, deepthroating, face fucking, wall sex, floor sex, AS I SAID.... FILTH word count: 4k

you practically live in joel's bed now.

it's only been three days since he picked you up at the bus stop, brought you back and took care of you the way he always has, the way he knows best. and he hasn't stopped since he finally admitted his feelings for you, face buried in your bare shoulder with his cock still deep inside of you.

he fucks you every morning. every afternoon. every night. you have absolutely no idea where he gets the stamina, how the fuck he's able to keep going and going, but you're certainly not complaining. your bodies have practically melded into one at this point, warm and sticky and safe amid groans and whimpers that match each other, heartbeats that pound at the same rhythm.

you shower - together. you take snack breaks - together. you sleep - together. and in between he fucks you in every possible position the two of you can manage, big hands roaming the softness of your body, the sheer size of him dwarfing you whenever he's on top, beneath, behind.

you find that ever since you reunited with him, you feel different. you feel sort of disconnected from reality, from the real world, everything you left behind that night. your parents don't know where you are - although you doubt they care very much. you've missed three days of classes, were supposed to turn in a paper yesterday morning. you're essentially dead to the world and you find that you like it. you like that only joel knows where you are. you like that only joel knows who you are, has always known.

you've never been so lost in this dynamic you share, never gone so long without saying his real name or simply being apart. sure, you've always let him take control in the moments you've shared, have always been the smaller, softer one in his big and capable hands, have wanted it that way - but never like this. a broad and seemingly unlimited time period spans in front of you; there's no rush, no sneaking around, no threat of being found out. you're completely at his mercy, letting him do anything he wants, enjoying him doing anything he wants.

he periodically checks to make sure that you're alright, that you still want what's happening. it's been three full of days of him practically controlling your autonomy, keeping you locked away from the rest of the world in his bedroom, and he's rightfully concerned, though not necessarily complaining.

"i want this," you reassure him softly for what feels like the tenth time, cupping the greying scruff on his cheek as you lie together on his bed after he fucked you deep into the mattress til you saw stars, "just wanna be yours for a while, daddy," you lean forward to brush your nose against his, eyelashes fluttering tiredly against your cheeks.

"you tell me the second anything changes, okay?" he whispers. his legs are tangled with yours beneath the sheets, soft hair tickling your bare ankles, "if it gets to be too much, we stop."

"i will," you whisper, then lean in to kiss him softly, "i promise."

--

"daddy, i'm gonna come again," you whine, legs close to giving out as he presses you up against the wall opposite his bed, his large body pinning you against the cool surface. he's so fucking deep, has made a home within the innermost parts of your body, so far inside you can feel the tip of his cock poking through the pouch at the bottom of your tummy.

"i know, baby, i know," he pants in your ear, thrusting harder and faster and deeper, your bodies pounding into the solid expanse of the wall, "come on that cock, sweet girl. make her sing, come on darlin'," his hands are gripping your hips so tightly, his lips sucking a mark into your shoulder alongside the dozens of others he's left there over the past few days.

you shake in his arms, eyes rolling back as desperate sounds tear from your throat, rip through the room like animalistic snarls. you go practically limp and he has to hold you up, doesn't stop moving, just keeps fucking and taking and using.

he finishes only a moment later, pulsing deep inside as he bites into the tender skin of your shoulder and gives all of it to you. you're still full of him from this morning, thighs sticky with everything that's dripped out over the course of the past few hours.

"so much, daddy," you whimper, feeling his grip on your hips lessen slightly, hearing him groan as his cock continues to twitch and pump you full of his release, "so much, can feel all of it."

"i know, babygirl," he whispers, voice positively wrecked, "gotta keep you so full, gotta make you remember who owns this little pussy, right?"

"right," you agree softly, forehead leaning wetly against the wall.

"and who owns it, baby?"

"you do, daddy," you whisper back.

"good girl," he nuzzles his face into your neck; you can feel the sweat dripping down his jaw, hear him trying desperately to catch his breath as he moans against your skin, "such a good fuckin' girl for your daddy. just made to take this fuckin' cock."

you're both only able to lean against the wall for another moment before you're completely exhausted. he's still so deep, cock softening but not moving, staying pressed firmly within your walls. his hand comes up to rest on your tummy, pressing kisses all over your shoulder.

"feelin' full, baby?" he murmurs, "feelin' good?"

"so good," you sigh, eyes closing and tears stinging behind your lids - good tears, happy tears, fucking joyous tears - "want you to fuck me again, daddy. do it again."

he makes a strangled noise into your skin and then starts walking backwards with you, arms wrapping around your middle and tugging you toward the bed. you both fall down onto it in a heap, still gasping for air but not wanting to part from each other unless absolutely necessary.

"how many times is that now?" he mumbles, chest heaving against your back.

"i don't know," you admit honestly. your head leans back to rest against his sticky shoulder, tangled hair dripping onto his chest. his hands come up to squeeze your breasts, pull you harder against him like he never wants to let go. and you know he doesn't.

"just wanna fuck you over and over again," he whispers, breath hot against your neck, "take care of you. wanna show you who you belong to."

"i belong to you," you breathe, opening your legs and peering down at where you're still connected.

"good girl," he groans, and his hips jerk as his cock twitches inside you, "good fuckin' girl."

you both lay there catching your breaths for about five more minutes before joel slowly pulls out of you, the wet squelch borderline pornographic in the silence of his bedroom. you both listen as your pussy releases some of his come, eyes trailing down to watch the warm white liquid dribble down onto the sheets.

"fuckin' full of me," he murmurs, reaching a hand down to thumb some of it back inside, cupping your pussy with the palm of his hand. you whimper, bucking into it and biting down hard on your lip.

you've never felt so desired in your life, so wanted and taken care of. you could fall asleep right now and know that you're safe, know that joel will make sure all your needs are met before he gives it to you all over again. this is all you've needed this whole time, from the moment you stepped through your ex boyfriend's door and came face to face with the man whose arms were so warm around you in that first hug, the same arms you nestle comfortably in now.

"i love you, daddy," you mumble softly, eyelashes fluttering as your exhaustion takes over, "love you so much."

"i love you too, babygirl," he breathes, pulling his hand up and hugging you from behind again, "rest now for a little while."

--

he runs you a bath and wakes you when it's full, carries you to the bathroom and places you inside the tub. you drift off again as he washes you, wipes you clean of all the sweat and tears and come, stays with you until he has to wake you up again to dry you off. you're nothing more than a doll in his arms, pliant and loose, allowing him to touch you everywhere he needs to before carrying you back to bed where he's already replaced the sheets.

he makes you a snack - popcorn, your favorite. feeds it to you with a knowing look that makes you squirm under his gaze. as he pops a kernel into your mouth you find yourself wrapping your lips around his finger and thumb, tongue slowly licking off the butter and salt. you push the popcorn to the back of your cheek and instead focus entirely on sucking joel's fingers, wet and tight.

"oh babygirl," he breathes, voice soft, "need daddy's cock again, huh? need to suck on it, don't you?"

you nod, already desperate, eyes big and round as he pushes his fingers further into your mouth, presses down on the back of your tongue. you swallow around him lewdly, eyes watering.

"open," he whispers, and you obey, only for him to slowly pull his fingers out - along with the popcorn in your cheek - and then stand up by the edge of the bed, reaching for his zipper, "nice and wide, baby."

a moment later you're choking on the thick length of his cock, the tip prodding the back of your throat while he tangles his fingers in your hair and peers down at you calmly, eyes dark, hips slowly thrusting.

"thaaat's it," he whispers, helping you move your head back and forth as he fucks your face, "there you go, sweet girl. that's what you needed, huh?"

your head is swimming, eyes full of tears, heart full of love and devotion as you lock your gaze with his and moan around his cock. his brow furrows as he looks at you, nods in your direction with eyes that soothe and relax you.

"daddy's good little girl," he murmurs, and pride swells in your chest.

--

he goes down on you a lot. especially in the morning, when you're just slowly waking up and don't have the energy to get on all fours or climb on top of him to ride. he crawls down beneath the sheets and noses your puffy pussy lips, presses kisses all over the parts that feel raw and tender. he laps at your folds, eyes hooded and hazy like he's enjoying a delicacy he's never experienced before, every single time.

"poor baby," he murmurs, pulling back to pull apart your lips and peer down at your fucked-out hole, "so used, honey," he licks a stripe up your pussy and you writhe in the sheets, "daddy used her all up, huh?"

you look down at him with a pout, eyes large and innocent, "she likes getting used, daddy," you whisper.

"i know she does," he agrees quietly, then slowly prods his tongue inside, licking at your pulsing walls and sucking on all your favorite spots, leaving you a whimpering and whining mess above him.

he makes you squirt, something you only discovered you could do yesterday, something he's now made you do at least six times since that first time. your wetness coats his lips, his chin, drips down his jaw all over the sheets as he leans back in and laps up every drop he can manage. your eyes roll back, hoarse cries croaking past your lips as another steady stream of your release practically pistons into his mouth. he groans as he swallows, low and deep.

--

it's dirty. it's intense. it's real.

you find yourselves splayed together on the floor of his bedroom on the third day, nothing but a throw blanket between your bodies and the hardwood. your head rests against the soft expanse of his tummy, the hair above his belly button tickling your ear as he breathes in and out.

he just fucked you so good. practically bent you in half against the floor with your ankles dangling by your ears. he was so deep; so fucking deep that he had you screaming for him, screaming so high and loud and wild that he'd had to cover your mouth before the neighbors called the cops. he'd let out a multitude of his own loud noises when he'd come inside you, holding you still while he filled you to the brim and then released his hand from your mouth so you could let out one last pathetic whine.

now he cards his fingers through your hair, hums something soft and angelic somewhere above you while you drift in and out of consciousness. you've never felt so close to another person in your life.

"so sleepy, babygirl," he whispers in between his humming, scratches a pleasant spot behind your ear, "all tuckered out, huh?"

you make a quiet noise of agreement, nestling your cheek further into the squishy warmth of his belly. his cock rests low and flaccid only a few inches away, a sight that makes your mouth water all over again. you're starting to wonder if you'll ever be sated. you don't ever want to leave this room.

"daddy's gonna run another bath for you," he murmurs, "that sound nice?"

you nod, still unable to really say anything. your body aches, your jaw is sore, your skin is covered in love bites and small bruises. a bath sounds very nice right about now.

"you doin' okay, baby?" he adds softly, still running his fingers through your hair, "you with me?"

you're not really sure how to answer that. you still don't really feel like yourself. he knows that too, but just wants to check and make sure you're still in this headspace. he's probably wondering when you're ever going to come out of it. if you're ever going to come out of it.

"i'm with you, daddy," you mumble, pressing a featherlight kiss to his tummy, "i'm here."

--

you can miss class, but joel can't miss work, at least not for long. he's eased himself of a few of his duties, handed some stuff over to his employees via email, but there are certain things he can't avoid for very long. luckily though, he can work from home.

early on the fourth day - after eating your pussy for about twenty minutes and making you come three times - he leans against the headboard with his laptop placed precariously on his belly and answers some emails, does his best to do some of the work he's behind on. you sleep for most of it, but wake up when you hear him chatting to someone on the phone beside you.

"gonna have to change that," he's saying quietly, cell pressed up against his ear, "the crew's not gonna be happy."

you peer up at him with a sleepy expression, blinking a few times. he only notices you've woken up when you stretch your arms above your head, breasts peeking out from under the sheets - you see his gaze drop to them immediately.

he points to the cell and makes a face, mouthing sorry and rolling his eyes, making you giggle. he wastes no time in reaching over and squeezing one of your breasts in his palm, then starting to toy with your hardening nipple as he continues the conversation.

"no, that won't work either," he says, pinching it between his thumb and finger and making you jolt a bit, "last thing we need is another person quittin' on us for shit we coulda prevented."

you look up at him, dazed and already wet underneath the sheets as he rolls your nipple between his fingers over and over, the corner of his mouth twitching up when you inch a bit closer to him, pushing your chest out for easier access.

"how about we just do what was already suggested?" joel continues, and you watch his eyes grow dark when you pull the sheet down and expose your naked body to him in its entirety, opening your legs and showing him your already glistening pussy, still wet and juicy from his saliva and your arousal, "yeah," he says, voice hitching a bit, "yeah, that's good."

he closes his laptop and places it on the nightstand, then turns back to you and carefully pulls down his own side of the sheet with one hand, showing you his equally naked body - and hardening cock.

"that should work," he says quietly, then points to his length, tilting his head slightly as he peers into your eyes, "yeah, that's what we need."

you climb into his lap, wasting no time in taking hold of his cock and positioning it at your entrance. you sink down onto it with hooded eyes, mouth popping open as he fills you with a calm expression, still talking on the phone.

"good," he says, "that sounds good. that's what we'll do."

you're still tired and achy, not really able to hold yourself up properly from everything your body has been through over the past three days. riding him was so much easier on that first day when your thighs didn't feel so sore. as if he can read your mind he wraps an arm around your back and pulls you in so you're chest to chest, allows you to place your chin on his shoulder as you bottom out on his length and sigh delicately in his ear. he trails his fingers up and down your back, noses your ear gently.

"so, what about the transportation issue?" he asks into the phone, tightening his arm around you and holding you still on his cock, like he just wants you to sit there until he's done the conversation - something you have absolutely no issue doing. "uh huh, yeah, that'll need to be in writing."

you stay connected like that for the next half an hour, pussy throbbing continuously around his length and getting wetter and wetter the longer he drones on and on with whoever it is from his company that's got a matter so pressing it couldn't be done through an email. hearing the faint sound of another person talking sends a sort of recognition into your brain you hadn't been expecting - a reminder that other people actually exist outside of this bedroom, that life is continuing to go on.

you can feel the spell starting to be broken and you're not sure how it makes you feel.

by the time he finally hangs up the phone you find that you've started to come back to some semblance of reality, whatever your reality is at this point. you remember that you have a phone somewhere, in your bag - wherever that's ended up in the clutter of joel's room - and that you might have unread messages, missed calls. you remember the fact that you had a paper to turn in and it sends a wave of anxiety to the pit of your stomach. you remember why you're here in the first place, how awful the other night had been until joel picked you up.

joel hangs up the phone and tosses it to the side, then wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer, buries his nose in your neck and breathes in.

"you're such a good girl, baby," he murmurs, big hands traveling skillfully up and down your spine, "so patient on daddy's cock."

you don't say anything, brow furrowed and expression completely out of his view as you hitch your chin on his shoulder and dig your fingers into his back.

"need to be fucked, baby? or do you just wanna sit on it for a little while longer?" he still hasn't sensed a change, still waiting to make the decisions, half expecting you to mumble something incoherent.

"um, actually," you say softly, voice gravely and dry, "i think... i think i need some air."

he pulls back immediately to peer at your face, eyebrows going up in surprise when he sees you. you're not sure how you've appeared to him over the past few days, probably had a permanent look of ecstasy on your face, innocent and naïve, oblivious to everything. he must see something different now; recognition, realization, something that shows you're coming out of it.

"of course," he breathes, hands going down to carefully pull you up from his cock. you wince at the strain of your muscles as you lift yourself from his lap and settle on the bed again, making a face. you feel his finger on your chin as he tilts your head up to look at him, expression one of pure concern and love.

"are you back, babygirl?" he asks softly, eyes soft, "feelin' like yourself again?"

you swallow around the lump in your throat, nodding slowly as tears blur your vision, "i think so," you hiccup, "and i don't like it."

--

he sits with you on his back patio, lets you lean against the solidness of him on the wooden steps as you stare out at the trees and grass, the blue expanse of sky and singing birds.

you cry for a long time. you don't really know why.

--

he makes you pasta for dinner, puts on cheesy 80s music and dances dorkily around the kitchen as it boils in the pot. you sit on a stool by the island and just shake your head at him with a genuine smile and tired eyes, hair wet from your first shower without him in days. you're wearing your own clothes again, freshly washed. you feel a bit more yourself now.

things are starting to make a bit more sense as time passes. you figure it all caught up to you that night, much more than you'd realized. you'd thought it would all be okay once you were back in joel's embrace, but you'd still been running from things you couldn't face. the things you'd been through, the things you'd done.

"you just needed to... not think for a while," joel tells you softly as his fingers card through your hair later that night. you both lie together in the dewy grass of his backyard, staring up at the stars, breathing in the cool air. "that's the only way i can think to explain it."

you nod slowly, biting your lip, "i was so annoying," you say with a grimace, "like i literally demanded every second of your attention, didn't i? i'm so sorry."

"babygirl, i am not complaining," he murmurs with a chuckle, pulling you in a bit closer, "it was nice. it was... fun."

you smile, "it was. it was fun."

you cuddle with him as the evening turns into night, quiet and safe. you never thought you'd get to this point, never thought you'd ever be able to just exist with him, just be.

"my only complaint," he suddenly says, a bit of a grumbly edge to his voice, "is that i think i destroyed my back."

you snort, bringing your hand up to cover your mouth.

"i'm serious," he groans quietly, nosing your hair, "i'm gonna have to go to a chiropractor after all that."

you can't help but laugh, pressing a kiss to the corner of his jaw as you smile up at him.

"sorry, daddy."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #fic: bd!joel #*

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Cherry Pie. aka - Cherry, Part Three.

There are certain things in life that can’t be denied. You’re starting to think maybe you and Steve are one of them.

pairing - bestfriend!steve harrington x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing.

word count - 2.6k

authors note - part three has arrived!! thanks for your patience, angels. thank you for all your continued enthusiasm and support for this series. I love them and I love you <3 as always, please reblog if you enjoyed!! it’s the only way to circulate my fics <3

masterlist. inbox. series masterlist.

“The prettiest girl in the world just walked in.”

“Your mom?”

“Funny, Harrington. Try again.”

“My Cherry?”

Robin smiles knowingly, nodding her head. Not only did Steve automatically associate you with the phrase prettiest girl in the world, but he called you his. Some days, she wished she could slap him square across the face in hopes of waking him up to what everyone else could see so clearly.

“Hi, you two. Working hard, or hardly working?”

You giggle, and the sound bounces off the metal shelves of the Family Video Store. Steve’s mesmerised, stood unmoving with a beaming grin on his face.

“I’m the first, Steve’s the second.”

The boy kicks his coworker in the shin, laughing when she pinches the bare skin of his arm in retaliation.

“Not true.”

Steve takes you in for a second, stuck still in his place. You’re wearing his favourite sundress, all patterned and pretty in front of him. Your lips are glossy and skin glowy, sneakers on your feet a perfect white. The perfect picture of a summer day.

“What are you doing here?” Robin asks, breaking him out of his haze. He snaps back to reality and throws an arm around your shoulders, kissing your temple sweetly.

“I was nearby anyway, thought I’d come in and see if you were busy. And I had to remind Steve to pick a movie for tonight.”

“We’re not watching a romcom.”

“We’re watching a romcom,” you say at the same time as Steve while Robin laughs.

“I better grab the new stock from the back. See you later,” she says, winking at the boy who still has you pulled tight into his side.

He rests his chin on the top of your head, inhaling the scent of your cherry conditioner and vanilla body wash. If Steve gets to heaven, he’s convinced this is what it’ll smell like.

“I finish here at 6, so I can come and get you, or you can wait for me at my place? Your choice, Cherry Baby.”

“I’ll wait for you. I was thinking I’d make us some dinner anyway, ready for when you get home.”

Home. Steve’s brain short circuits, a vision of a domestic life with a white picket fence flashing across his mind. He cups your face in his hands, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Sounds perfect,” he whispers.

You’re a little confused by all this sudden affection, but the last thing you’ll ever do is complain. If he wants to kiss you until you’re dizzy in the middle of this Family Video Store, then so be it.

“I should leave you to get on with stuff.”

“You could stay all day, if you wanted. We could make you wear the uniform and everything - no one would suspect a thing.”

You laugh, nudging his foot with yours.

“As tempting as that is, I have a little more shopping to do. And I have to get ingredients for later.”

You pick up your bag, swinging it over your shoulder as you look at him.

“See you later, Stevie.”

“See you later, Cherry Pie.”

You’re halfway out the door when he calls your name, head whipping around to face him.

“You’re so pretty. You know that, right?”

You look at your shoes, suddenly bashful at his boldness.

“You too, Stevie. Prettiest boy I know.”

You both go about the rest of your days floating on air, high on the giddy sweetness of it all.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Steve almost passes out when he unlocks his front door.

There’s candles lit and music playing softly, the kitchen alive with movement. Something smells delicious, and he can hear you humming along to a song he thinks he recognises as you chop and stir. He can picture it perfectly before he even enters the room, but the sight still knocks him off balance when he finally gets a good look at you.

“Honey, I’m home!”

You spin from your place at the stove to grin at him, petticoat trimmed apron tied around your waist to protect your dress.

“Darling! I’ve been waiting all day for you!”

You curtsy in mock greeting, which makes Steve laugh much harder than it should. He strides over and gathers you in his arms, squeezing you a little tighter than necessary.

“Steven, I saw you a few hours ago. You’re acting like you’ve just returned from war.”

“Forgive me for missing you,” he mumbles into your hair.

You sink into his embrace anyway, tangling your fingers into the back of his shirt and inhaling the familiar scent of it.

“Something smells really good.”

“It’s my famous cherry pie,” you grin, pulling back to look up at him. “Made it just for you.”

“You’re an angel,” he exclaims, spinning you around on the tiled floors. “An angel sent just for me.”

You try to ignore the way heat rises across your chest, his compliments warming your skin.

“Let me take it out of the oven, and then we’ll eat. You must be starving.”

He laughs, because you know for a fact he’s always hungry. You know everything about him. It should scare him, spook him, make him nervous. Instead he hums with the excitement of it, body alive with the anticipation of it all.

Steve changes out of his work clothes as you plate up dinner. He comes back downstairs to see you sat at the table waiting for him, all patient and pretty. He wonders momentarily what he’s done so right in life to be rewarded so greatly.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

“So you totally brought me a romcom, right?”

Steve wants to deny it, wants to tell you that actually he stood his ground and stuck to his word. Instead, he says,

“Of course I did.”

And you laugh, all silvery and melodic, because you knew he’d cave. He can’t say no to you, even if he wanted to. You don’t use it to your advantage as often as you should. Steve wishes you did a little more.

“I’ll make popcorn if you get the video set up.”

Snacks made and movie ready, you settle in next to Steve on the couch. The two of you always follow the same routine - you sit separately, a fair distance between you, watching the movie with your hands to yourself. Then, slowly, you migrate towards each other, until you’re pressed together without an inch of space to be found.

The same thing happens tonight.

You end up being spooned by Steve, both of you laying across the couch cushions. Your back is pressed to his front, legs tangled together, his arm keeping you bracketed in to him. He’s hooked his chin over your shoulder to watch the TV, pressing kisses into the skin of your neck absentmindedly every now and again.

The film Steve picked is one you’ve seen before, but you’re not about to tell him that. Instead, your eyes slowly slip closed, the steady rhythm of the boys breathing lulling you into a sleepy haze. He traces patterns over the exposed skin of your stomach with his fingertips, chuckling slightly when you flinch as he brushes a ticklish spot.

Your hips roll back into his as you try to adjust your position, and Steve’s breath hitches in his throat. He inhales deeply, waiting for you to settle back down.

You don’t. You keep wriggling, clearly uncomfortable as you sink further into the couch cushions. Steve tries to help you, strong arm pulling you up and into him. You jut your hips once more, and he can’t help the small groan that leaves his lips.

Your eyes flutter open, adjusting to the flashing lights of the TV illuminating the room. The movie is still playing, but you know it’s almost finished. Steve’s arm is tight around your waist, his breathing heavy against your shoulder. You shift your hips to alleviate the pressure on your tangled legs when Steve sucks in a harsh breath, startling you.

He’s warm behind you. So warm. His chest is moving ragged, panting against your bare skin. His fingers grip your thigh tightly for a second, before letting it go and soothing over it.

Oh. Oh.

You’re wide awake, suddenly. Liquid heat spikes its way up your spine, all prickly and electric. You’re not sure what your next move is, but lust is clouding all five of your senses.

“Steve.”

“Cherry.”

“Steve.”

You try to say his name more firmly, but it just comes out as a whine. The sound shoots straight to Steve’s core, his hips bucking into your ass involuntarily.

“You okay?” he mumbles into your ear, grip on your thigh tightening. His fingertips dig into your skin, and you pray you’ll still be able to feel it tomorrow.

“Yeah,” you breathe, but it’s a lie. You’re not okay. You’re on fire, every nerve ending in your body alight with molten heat. You think you might be shaking with it, hoping Steve doesn’t notice.

His hand smooths up from your thigh to just under your breast, resting gently on your ribs. Your heart is fluttering like a hummingbirds wings, frantic and delicate. He can feel it through his fingertips.

“I love you, Cherry Baby.”

You lose your breath momentarily, reminding yourself how to inhale. He always does this, always catches you off guard by telling you he loves you in the moments you expect it the least. It always means more, in times like these. He could have said anything to you just then, but he chose I love you. You don’t know whether to laugh or cry or neither or both.

“I love you too,” you choke out. “So much.”

You grind your hips back into his, grinning when he groans all low and buttery. His hand glides up to cup your chest, squeezing gently as you arch into him.

“What do you want?” he asks slowly. “Tell me what you want, babe. I’ll give you anything. Need to hear you say it. Wanna hear you say the words.”

You let him ramble for a minute, trying to put your thoughts in order. You try as hard as you can, but all you can say is,

“You.”

Steve buries his nose into your hair, pressing a kiss into the space behind your ear gently.

“You’re killing me, baby.”

“Want you so badly, Steve. Please.”

The hand that’s on your chest dances down to your stomach, slipping underneath your sleep shorts. He traces his fingers over your underwear, moaning when he feels them completely soaked through.

“Shit.”

“Stevie.”

He strokes you gently, hips rutting into your back when yours jolt into his hand. Eventually, he pulls your underwear to the side, running his fingers through your wet heat before slipping two inside.

You keen instantly, back arching into him. His lips find home in the juncture between your neck and your shoulder, teeth biting down occasionally to try and stifle his desire. You move your hips in tandem with his rhythm, grinding down to try and find the right spot.

“Yeah, fuck, that’s it. Atta girl. Ride my fingers, sweetheart. Take what you need.”

His voice is like melted honey, all golden and warm. It’s making your bones turn to liquid, sinking further into the hold he still has on you with his other arm. Every inch of you is plastered to every inch of him, not a millimetre of space between you. You’ve never been so connected, both physically and emotionally. It’s like the tectonic plates are shifting, the very foundations of your lives changing right in front of your eyes.

Your chest is heaving, panting like you’ve just ran a marathon. All you can focus on is the white heat building in the pit of your stomach, volcanic and bright. When Steve crooks his fingers, you cry out, tumbling over the edge into a blind freefall with no parachute.

“That’s it, baby. Good girl.”

“You’re so good f’me. Doin’ so well.”

“Ride it out, pretty girl. Fuck.”

“Make a mess, there we go. Just like that.”

You’re not even registering his words, but you know that he’s praising you. He always is. He thinks you’re an angel, sent down from heaven to teach him what love is.

Steve ruts his hips into your back, groaning as he finishes. He can’t even find it in him to be embarrassed. The feeling of you writhing in his hold as you tightened around him was his undoing, whether he wanted it to be or not. He doesn’t mind.

You go boneless, head dropping back into his shoulder. He presses kisses onto your temple, your cheek, your neck, anywhere he can reach. You sigh in contentment, and Steve wishes he could bottle up the sound and take it like a shot of espresso every morning.

“You okay?”

You nod and then giggle, dopamine rushing through your blood. You’re almost lightheaded with it, floating on cloud nine.

“Steve?” you whisper.

“Yeah?”

You turn in his hold to finally face him, taking in the sight of his flushed cheeks and messy hair. You rest your sweaty forehead against his, panting into his mouth.

“Want it to be you.”

He pulls away slightly to get a good look at your face, eyes a little wide with shock.

“You mean…”

“Yeah. You don’t have to, if you don’t want to, but if you do, I guess I, um… there’s no one I trust more than you.”

“You know you can only lose your virginity once, baby.”

“I know. Which is exactly why it should be you.”

He grins at you, all giddy and love drunk, bumping your nose with his.

“You’re sure?”

“One hundred percent.”

Steve leans in to press his lips to yours, all slow and tender, kissing you as if you have all the time in the world.

Perhaps you do.

“Not tonight, obviously,” you murmur, chuckling under your breath. “Don’t think you could handle that.”

He scoffs, pulling back from you in disbelief.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You just came in your pants and I didn’t even touch you. Who even knows if we’ll make it to actual sex.”

Steve pinches your sides, wrapping his arms around you so you can’t escape. You laugh, trying to squirm out of his hold without luck.

“You’re gonna be eating your words, Cherry Baby.”

You shake your head, blinding smile still etched on your face.

“You know what I am gonna eat? My cherry pie. I’m starving.”

Steve groans at the thought of the dessert sitting on the counter in the kitchen. No one does a cherry pie quite like you.

“Hell yeah. Let’s do it. There’s ice cream in the freezer, too. That vanilla bean one you like.”

You peck his lips before standing up on shaky legs, wincing as you do it.

“You good?”

“I’m gonna need a new shirt. This one’s sticky.”

You look at him with a raised eyebrow and he can’t hold in his laughter, the sound of it booming around the quiet room.

“Shut the fuck up,” he jokes as he throws you over his shoulder. Despite your protests, he carries you up the stairs, smacking your ass a few times on the way for good measure.

When he puts you down, he cradles your face gently, looking into your eyes with sincerity.

“It’s me and you forever. You know that right?”

You know what he’s trying to say. I love you. You’re it for me. There never has been and never will be anyone else.

But neither of you are quite ready for those words. So instead, you say,

“I know. I’ve always known.”

And that’s enough, for now.

@psychicnerdcat @allcheesemelts @valerievortex @swiftsgirlfriend @steviespookie @betweenstarsandsatellites @mrsjoequinn @internallysalad @saucypeanuttt @empathyroad @niceskyler @spookysins @theoraekenslover @7minutes-tomidnight @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @livsters @diffrent-spokes @regular-joe-shmoe @ihatepeanutss

for some reason I didn't tag some people from part one in part two... no idea why. sorry!

#steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x bestfriend!reader #bestfriend!steve harrington #bestfriend!steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x bestfriend reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things fluff

[salfishersface]

Baby Fever || Sal Fisher

Synopsis - Sal has baby fever.

Warnings - NSFW.

Notes - All characters are 18+!

Word Count - 0.6k.

{Caffeinate Me}

Part Two || Part Three

Visiting Chug, Maple and Soda was always something you enjoyed, it was so lovely. To see little Soda’s face light up when you walked in filled your heart with so much joy. Your boyfriend, Sal Fisher, loved it too. He loved giving Soda a ride on his shoulders, hearing her little giggles and squeals of delight made life not seem so bad. However, it always put you both in the same position when you got back to the apartment you shared with him, his dad Henry, and Lisa: your face buried amongst the sea of pillows on his bed, arse up in the air as he pounded into you from behind silently begging for you to let him cum inside and knock you up. That’s where you found yourself now. 

Your hands grasped the sheets below, knuckles turning white as you tried to hold in the moans that were threatening to tumble from your lips. “Please, please,” Sal begged as he bit his bottom lip, trying his hardest not to be loud and wake up his sleeping parents just a room over. “Please make me a daddy.”

“Sally!” You cried out quietly, eyes rolling into the back of your head as his cock thrusted inside of you. 

“I know, baby, I know,” he cooed, pressing his exposed lips to your bare shoulder blade. “Just a little more, you can take it can’t you? I know you can,” his voice was hoarse, but then again, he had been edging himself for what felt like hours. You nodded into the pillow, biting the skin of your bottom lip between your teeth as your third orgasm of the night washed over you. Your body shook violently, legs trembling as the coil in your stomach snapped. His lips kissed over your bare shoulders, biting and nipping at the soft flesh as his hands roamed your chest. He squeezed your breasts lightly as his thrusts became sloppier and more staggered as his stamina wavered. “Gonna cum,” he groaned into your neck. You were too fucked out to comprehend what he was saying, but you nodded in response anyway. Sal’s hands grasped onto your hips tighter as, with a few more staggered thrusts, he came inside of you. Thick ropes of creamy cum filled your cunt to the max. 

When Sal finally pulled out, he sat back and admired what he had created as if it was a work of art. “Shit,” you whispered as your entire body collapsed on the bed. 

“Put your knees up to your chest,” Sal said suddenly, tearing his gaze away from your cum covered cunt and gazing into your eyes. You looked at him quizzically, tilting your head to the side. “I wasn’t joking about wanting to become a father, you know.” 

Your eyes widened with surprise, but did as you were told and pulled your knees up to your chest. “You really want to have a baby with me?” You asked.

“More than anything,” Sal nodded. He lay down next to you and pulled you into his chest, making sure to keep your knees fixed to your chest in hopes that his semen would find its way to their desired place. You knew tomorrow you’d be in the same position since you were babysitting Soda again for Chug and Maple, but you didn’t mind. You wanted to make your loving, adoring boyfriend’s dreams of becoming a father reality and the pleasure he gave you was just a plus. “I hope it worked,” Sal whispered as he placed a tender kiss on your forehead. 

“We can try again tomorrow,” you said with a sleepy smile. 

Sal nodded, a grin plastered on his lips as he looked down on you. “We can indeed.” It wasn’t long before you both fell into a deep, peaceful sleep, ready for another day of babysitting an overactive toddler for your friends. 

#sally face fandom #sally face x reader #sally face imagine #sal fisher #sally face #sal fisher imagine #sal fisher imagines #sal fisher x you #sal fisher x reader #sally face imagines #sal fisher smut #sally face one shot #sally face oneshots #sal fisher one shot #sal fisher one shots #sally face one shots #sally face oneshot #sal fisher oneshot #sally face smut

[ihaveverything]

Limitless manifesting for beginners

part I - the basic concepts

part II - states, techniques, change

part III - mental diet, sats

part IV - daily life, time

ʚ part V - resistance, faith, the ''real'' world

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Changing your life can happen faster than you ever possibly imagined, but you first have to understand the basics of who you are. This goes beyond the common saying of “you don’t manifest what you want, you manifest who you are” into a deeper spiritual truth about our existence as souls and a reality far greater than what we see now. Each of us has many probable lives, access to infinite probable realities, and is truly the sole creator for our individual reality.

“First of all, a soul is not something that you have. It is what you are.” – Seth Speaks: The Eternal Validity of the Soul

Resistance

To enter a state is not the most difficult thing. In fact, it should be rather effortless, until the factor of resistance and strain comes in. There is no benefit in affirming or visualizing against how you feel, because the latter will always be the victor. In fact, it only reinforces lack because of avoidance.

“There is a great difference between resisting evil and renouncing it. When you resist evil, you give it your attention; you continue to make it real. When you renounce evil, you take your attention from it and give your attention to what you want.” – Neville Goddard, The Power of Awareness

Since we live in a physical reality, we often identify with the part of us that is responsible for daily activities, and we barely give any thought to the unconscious portion of ourselves that is the basis for creating the experience around us. We rely on our senses to survive and allow the outside world to determine how we feel. However, the concept of us being more than a physical form has been discussed in both scientific and spiritual fields. As you have likely learned from Neville and / or Seth, our consciousness is far more than a production of the neurons in our brain. Our own physical form, which we have so strongly identified with, is just like a custom fitting glove that we are constantly creating to suit our needs. We are in the physical as Gods in training, learning how to use our thoughts to create our human experience. This gift is something we were born with, and although the Law is not common knowledge to most people in this world, the truth about reality and our identity is not hidden. It is displayed in each of our lives on a daily basis, with a perfect correlation between the states we’ve been entertaining and the events that occur.

“However, the understanding of the causes of your experience, and the knowledge that you are the sole creator of the contents of your life, both good and bad, not only make you a much keener observer of all phenomena, but through the awareness of the power of your consciousness, intensify your appreciation of the richness and grandeur of life.” – Neville Goddard, The Power of Awareness

Knowing this perspective of being a fragment of God, it is completely up to us to create anything we desire with our imagination. There are 3D circumstances that seem to hold us back, but if you really think about it, what’s more limitless? The 3D world or your imagination? And which comes first? The imagination. Sometimes we wish things were different, we hope this will change, we wonder if that can happen, but notice how none of these are a solid confidence in your experience now. You are the only one limiting yourself to your 3D circumstances. Breaking free of this mindset can be as simple as remembering who we truly are and what our purpose on Earth is. No one knows what your individual purpose for coming here is, but just as an example, let’s say it’s to learn how to create a long lasting relationship with someone you love because that was something you failed to do in the previous life. You chose this life and consented to your current circumstances as a second try, but when you surrender your mind to what you created in the first place, it’s really just disappointing yourself for a second time when you could’ve taken this opportunity to learn. Now that was just a probable situation, and it doesn’t apply to everyone, but if you accept a new view of life and allow yourself to feel connected to infinite possibilities, doesn’t that sound much easier and more powerful than feeling stranded in a 3D world?

“How many of you would want to limit your reality, your entire reality, to the experience you now know? You do this when you imagine that your present self is your entire personality, or insist that your identity be maintained unchanged through an endless eternity.” – Seth Speaks: The Eternal Validity of the Soul

“It is not that physical reality is false. It is that the physical picture is simply one of an infinite number of ways of perceiving the various guises through which consciousness expresses itself.” – Seth Speaks: The Eternal Validity of Soul

Manifesting is effortless because it’s a decision, not a chore. If you were asked to get from Paris to Tokyo without a plane, that’s gonna take a lot of effort. You were not asked to do so. The key points to making that mental decision effortless is understanding life from a creator’s eyes + playfully using your imagination beneficially + gentle reminders that creation is finished + repeatedly making the same choice for which reality you will experience without trying to change anything in the 3D. As the Seth quote above says, your physical reality is not fake, and it’s actually a misconception to believe so. The people you meet everyday are real human beings with the same feelings and consciousness you have. However, there are many different versions of what you can experience, so your goal is to select something new. Telling yourself that 4D is the only real world and 3D is fake can lead to delusion or inner conflict when everything around you seems so real (which it is), because it could cause a spiral. If your SP left you in this reality, it does not mean that they are a fake puppet who doesn’t have a mind of their own. All it means is that your circumstances are aligned with whatever states you were dominantly entertaining, but you can change that at any moment. People often get confused with how to view the 3D because it gives them the most resistance, which brings them closer to trying rather than effortless manifesting. Your experience is made of internal selections, choices, and decisions. Choosing something better for yourself should be as easy as second nature, because who doesn’t want a better life?

“You must begin to trust yourself sometime. I suggest you do it now. If you do not then you will forever be looking to others to prove your own merit to you, and you will never be satisfied. You will always be asking others what to do, and at the same time resenting those from whom you seek such aid.” – Seth, The Nature of Personal Reality

Everyone who reads Neville and Seth should have come to the realization that we are connected to God / source. There is absolutely no power outside of you that determines your reality, so there’s really no reason for us to trust anyone but ourselves. Seeking outside help for more knowledge is a good start, but ultimately experience and application is the breakthrough moment for most people’s understanding in the Law. Nothing beats the feeling of your first major manifestation coming into fruition and you start thinking what more you can do next. Sometimes the only thing that stops you from seeing manifestation as effortless is having one foot in and one foot out. If you take a step forward but keep looking back at where you were before, then you haven’t really bought the Pearl of Great Price like Neville says. No teacher, book, guide, or video can do the mental work for you. At the end of the day your biggest motivator will and should always be yourself, because you need the drive to change your life.

Faith

When considering the best way to manifest your desires, it’s important to recognize that if you were bound to the 3d limitations of this world, many fundamental concepts such as creation is finished, infinite versions of yourself and others, different probable realities, imagination is not fiction, etc wouldn’t exist. Having an intellectual understanding of these things is not the same as feeling an emotional connection. Since the Law of Assumption places faith in breaking free of limitations and opening our minds to endless possibilities, it would also be helpful to view ourselves from a different perspective.

When people spiral over circumstances or are feeling resistance when doing techniques or returning to the state of the wish fulfilled, it is often because they lack a sense of control. They may view the current situation as solid, or their beliefs are too deeply rooted so they can’t see how the things they put attention on aren’t actually objective facts about reality. They could also feel like they are at a disadvantage, or are unsure of what to do when met with undesirable events because they aren’t finding comfort or confidence in accepting that they are actually the sole creator of their reality.

“Do not judge after the appearances of a thing. In judging after appearances you forget that all things are possible. Hypnotized as they were to the reality of appearances they could not feel the naturalness of sanity. The only way for you to avoid such failures is to constantly bear in mind that your awareness is the Almighty, all-wise presence, who without help, effortlessly out-pictures that which you are aware of being. Be perfectly indifferent to the evidence of the senses, so that you may feel the naturalness of your desire–and your desire will be realized. Turn from appearances and feel the naturalness of perfect sanity and sanity will embody itself. Your desire is the solution of your problem. As the desire is realized, the problem is dissolved.” – Neville Goddard, I Know My Father

Essentially what Neville explains in his teachings is that it is beneficial to live life from “God mode”, or in other words, a perspective where you truly are the only cause for every external materialization in the 3d world. I understand that there are many religious people who also follow manifestation content, and their beliefs may not resonate with saying “I am God”, which is perfectly fine. Ultimately the goal of this perspective is not to claim power for vanity, but to gain confidence and understanding in knowing just because you are a human, it does not mean manifestation is a powerless being trying to do magic tricks to make a miracle happen. When we view the Law as an unbelievable or difficult promise, mental dieting becomes much harder because there is a belief that prevents us from seeing things as attainable, or even effortless and naturally promised to us. The “God mode” perspective is helpful because it allows us to feel more connected with infinite possibilities that easily dissolves doubts and fears surrounding circumstances. Think about it this way, would God worry about being blocked by their person? Would God worry about not passing a job interview or not having enough money? No of course not, so you shouldn’t worry either. What you can gain from the Law of Assumption is fulfillment of your dreams and desires, so aligning your perception of yourself with someone that is easily capable of getting such things will lift a weight off your shoulders.

When you are going about life attending to your daily commitments, it can be easy to forget this perspective, because certainly anyone would look at you weirdly if you claimed “I am God and you are too”, but if you treat this as a playful reminder and an internal understanding that benefits your manifestation, it won’t feel like you’re usurping power. If you are waiting in line at the store or cooking at home and your mind wanders to the unlovely things, observe how you’re viewing yourself. Are you surrendering to physical human senses, or are you taking control by confidently returning to this new perspective?

Resistance is often defined by the emotions and thoughts we have, but if you think about where they come from, the root is always a belief. All circumstances, no matter big or small, are no trouble if you start believing in things that allow you to feel more powerful. You cannot possibly feel upset over something when you know you are connected to God and things will change because you say so. View life from the eyes of God, and your circumstances will reflect that back to you eventually.

Additionally, faith is believing in the unseen. How do you know what is unseen and what is improbable? You need to test it out. People always want to rely on others for motivation and success, but your life is your life. You have full responsibility and control over it, and there’s no excuse for anyone to stop themselves from reaching success because they always want to hear about someone else’s story first. It does not do well to compare or to worry. All the answers you need are within you. Ask yourself before you ask someone else, and learn to give yourself the willpower you need. A leap of faith is not as complicated or scary as it seems. You will gain faith after you realize this works for me, I’ve done it and now I will do it again. Joy from seeing other people’s stories will never be the same as the feeling of winning on your own. It’s understandable to question the Law after a significant period of no results, but ask yourself this question, “Have I truly changed my beliefs?” If the answer is no, then there’s no reason to doubt the Law, because you haven’t met the condition under which your 3D will reflect your desire. If the answer is yes, then that means you believe with full conviction that you already have what you want. With that being the case, then you are someone new. Why would that new version of you question where your results are? The logic of the Law is that you won’t get hurt or disappointed from applying it. Success is inevitable, and if you’re applying it properly, then there’s no reason for you to feel negative anymore.

The ''real'' world

I’m sure many people have wondered at least once in their lifetime what the meaning of life is, why are humans here, and what happens after death. There are curious minds that think about this existential question frequently, and people who don’t care about spirituality and manifestation beyond achieving their own desires. And that’s perfectly fine. People hold different beliefs all around the world. From religious ones to scientific theories, there’s always been a central question of what is the true purpose of our existence. The Law of Assumption is closely tied to metaphysical concepts such as the multiverse theory, cognitive scientific conclusions that studies how the brain / mind alters and shapes our realities, psychological perspectives on emotions and their subjectivity, etc. Manifesting is not a baseless optimistic lifestyle, nor is it confirmation bias. The Seth Material has introduced an extensive and detailed collection of works that explain how we have come to this world to experience life as humans. We are learning and evolving, shaping our realities with our thoughts, beliefs, and expectations. Seth even dives into the afterlife to explain death, afterlife choices, and other planetary existences and communities. He explains our existence:

“I am telling you that you are not a cosmic bag of bones and flesh, thrown together through some mixture of chemicals and elements. I am telling you that your consciousness is not some fiery product, formed merely accidentally through the interworkings of chemical components.” – Seth Speaks: The Eternal Validity of the Soul

For the people who found this material intriguing, some may have come to the realization that the world is quite more complex than what we can perceive right now. It is not to say that spiritual findings and beliefs should take over our daily life and affect our ways of living by completely branching off into a secluded mindset that differs from any other normal social interactions we may have. From my perspective, it’s a proposal that may be beneficial to those who are feeling lost or powerless. To recognize and embrace life as an experiential game of choices rather than an unknown path of challenges is a way to understand effortless manifesting. The most limitless we can be is always within our imagination, because it’s truly a place of possibilities, freedom, and creativity, so enjoy it.

“Suffering is not good for the soul, unless it teaches you how to stop suffering. That is its purpose.” ― Seth Speaks: The Eternal Validity of the Soul

#law of assumption #manifesting #loa #loa blog #loassumption #neville goddard #edward art #manifestation #loa states #imagination creates reality #loass states #conciousness #imagination

[seokgyuu]

When fertility clinics fail to give you what you want, you decide it’s time to take the matter into your own hands. And who’d be better for the job than Choi Seungcheol?

Pairing: Seungcheol x Fem!Reader

Genre: Porn with a small bit of plot. 

Warnings: This work contains adult content! MDNI! This whole fic revolves around getting pregnant!! So if you’re uncomfortable, please do not read. Smut warnings under the cut!

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: Omg look, she’s back with a work!! And it’s a standalone Cheol fic??? Damn. I wanna thank the lovely @idyllic-ghost for the beautiful banner!! Have fun reading and please be a bit more patient in case you are a reader of Challenge Me. I swear there is more to come!! also big thanks to @beomcoups for reading this over and telling me it doesn't suck, lol.

Tagging: @duhnova, @yoonguurt, @highvern, @smileysuh, @cheolism @the-boy-meets-evil @ourdawnishotterthanourday @gyuswhore

“I don’t really know how to start.” You finally break the silence, sitting on the couch across from Seungcheol, your legs crossed and your hands laying in your lap. He watches as you lick over your lips, nervous eyes roaming around the room and something like a chuckle wants to creep out of his throat. He suppresses it and instead smiles.

“Me neither, don’t worry. We can take it slow if you like. Or I can finish this water and we can go upstairs,” he pauses for a second, “or stay here, whatever you prefer.”

Smut Warnings: unprotected sex (duh), creampie, dirty talk, blowjobs, face fucking, usage of the word daddy, squirting, multiple orgasms (f&m)

Choi Seungcheol has never done this before. He has never sat in the living room of a woman he barely knew with a glass of medium sparkling water in his hand and a pounding heart in his chest. If anything, this had only ever happened in his dreams. Not the medium sparkling water (mainly because he didn’t even like his water sparkled, medium or not) and perhaps with less clothing - even though that specific part was probably about to become reality. 

“Do you want something small to eat, or something?” You ask now and Cheol flinches slightly, looking up at you with his big eyes and his mouth slightly dropped.

“Oh, no, thanks!” He smiles back and takes a sip from his glass. It tastes awful but he’s not about to say that. 

Your living room is huge; two big couches the color of creme surrounded by tasteful art on the walls. A fireplace and a huge flatscreen above it, pictures of friends and family on the shelves, books from authors Cheol has never heard of. He wonders for a quick second why you would choose this route when you obviously had the funds to do it the… more professional way, but then he remembers that he is getting paid for this. In fact, he already has the insane amount in his bank account waiting to be used to pay off his student loans. 

“I don’t really know how to start.” You finally break the silence, sitting on the couch across from Seungcheol, your legs crossed and your hands laying in your lap. He watches as you lick over your lips, nervous eyes roaming around the room and something like a chuckle wants to creep out of his throat. He suppresses it and instead smiles.

“Me neither, don’t worry. We can take it slow if you like. Or I can finish this water and we can go upstairs,” he pauses for a second, “or stay here, whatever you prefer.”

You think it’s cute, the way he blushes. In a situation like this one, definitely not surprising. You’ve been thinking about this for months now: fertility clinics in your town and even outside of it weren’t working. It wasn’t the money that was the problem, but your body apparently. Or anything else. At some point one of the doctors joked that it would probably be best if you tried getting pregnant in the old fashioned way. By sleeping with someone who had a penis with functioning sperm. And whilst he had meant it as a joke, very clearly trying to uplift an incredibly sad situation (kind of distasteful, you find) you had taken it to heart and here you are now. 

A friend of yours owned a few gyms in town and Cheol was a regular turned PT in one of them. He was handsome and strong, a gentleman, healthy and in desperate need of some easy made money. Your friend had overheard him talking to one of the other PTs and even though it might not have been the most professional thing to do - she had asked him if he wanted to help out in your specific situation. You have to admit - back when she told you it felt extremely humiliating. Asking some stranger to have sex with you to, maybe (hopefully?), get you pregnant. Not to mention her being his boss - if he hadn’t reacted the way he did, he could have more than likely sued her for this. 

But he said yes. And now he's here. Many dollars richer and with an embarrassed flush on his pretty face. 

“Upstairs is probably more comfortable,” you finally respond and he nods, emptying his glass. After, he looks at you expectantly and you feel your insides growing hot. He’s everything you wished for and more. Better than who you had picked first in the fertility clinic for sure. It’s crazy, all of this, you know it, and yet you can’t help but feel like this is also the only right thing. You want a baby. Seungcheol wants to help you get one. 

Finally, you get up and he joins you, a nervous smile on his lips as you lead him to the stairs in the foyer, your legs shaking as you walk up, the sounds of his footsteps behind you echoing in your head. You’re about to lead a stranger into your bedroom. A sexy stranger that will (hopefully) father the child you’ve been wanting for over a year. Your stomach turns in excitement as well as arousal and you clear your throat as you reach the top of the stairs.

“It’s right over here,” you say, pointing at the door to your left and Seungcheol nods, eyes only temporarily leaving your frame. 

A part of him feels like he should come clean about how much he’s been looking forward to this. To sleep with you, to breed you. Ever since his boss had asked him about this, he’s been excited. It was almost as if she had known. Showing him pictures of you, telling him how much you want to have a baby. She obviously didn’t say the obvious, didn’t say that you were desperate for cum in your pussy to get you pregnant. Mainly because that would have been even more inappropriate. But Cheol knew. He still does. Knows that you’re probably dripping into your designer panties wanting nothing but his cum and his only. Fuck, he is growing harder by the second. He has to calm down, remain professional. This is supposed to be nothing but a business transaction, he is well aware. But it’s not like he chose to have an extreme breeding kink, right? 

The door to your bedroom opens and Cheol takes in the furniture and decorations only for a second before his eyes land on you again. You stand in front of your bed, your arms wrapped around yourself. 

“I- uh, I think it’s probably best if we, uhm, get ready by ourselves?” 

Cheol nods. He kind of figured there wouldn’t be much foreplay. Still, just the thought of you behind him, touching yourself… he comes to the conclusion he won’t need much handy work to be hard for you. 

“Should we take our clothes off, or…?” He asks carefully and you swallow, your eyes trying to be subtle as you check him out but he can clearly see what you’re doing. You want him to take off his clothes. You just aren’t sure if you should. It would probably make the situation easier, yes, but it would also expose you to this man that is built like a god. You bite down on your lip and swallow the lump in your throat. Then, you nod. 

With a sense of pride, Cheol moves his hands to the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head without any trouble. Your eyes are immediately glued to his toned torso - the abs, the strong shoulders, his chest. 

“Maybe we should turn off the lights.” The words escape your mouth before they reach your brain. A small smirk tugs on Cheol’s lips - you’re flustered because of him. Without a word, Cheol nods and turns off the light, sitting down onto the bed with his back turned to you. This is nerve wracking. Your face is hot and your heart is beating fast as you sit down as well. You hear him behind you. Hear the sound of his pants opening, of his hands moving to shove it down. There is no stopping the wish to see him, his beautiful body. When you hear the small sigh he lets out a few seconds later, you decide to just follow your instincts. It was you who had called him here. Backing out now would be foolish. So, you bite down on your lip and lean back slightly, your hand wandering down to your clothed core, pressing against it for just a quick moment, before you move to open your jeans as well, making quick work to get them down your legs. 

You begin to circle your clit over your panties, eyes closed and the image of Cheol right there in front of you. The smug smile, the lean muscles on his torso… you wonder what they’d feel like under your fingertips. Now, it is you who sighs softly and Seungcheol behind you groans quietly. The sound shoots through you, makes you crave to hear it even closer, right by your ear. You want him to hold you, want him to say your name as he slides into you. 

The sounds you make drive Seungcheol crazy. His big hand is wrapped around his cock, moving up and down, precum helping to make the glide easier. His whole head is filled with you and nothing but you and he has to stop himself from shooting his load right away just thinking about feeling you tightly around him. Yes, Seungcheol seriously doesn’t know how long he can go on like this without cumming. So, he slightly turns around, tongue slipping over his lips.

“I’m ready…,” his deep voice reaches your ears just when two of your fingers slide into your pussy, already longing for more. You moan, feeling another wave of heat running through your body. Nodding, you let your fingers slip out and turn around, moving fully onto the bed. You hadn’t discussed positions earlier, but you decide to get on all fours, Seungcheol slowly getting up.

He can’t see you, only your silhouette that looks ever so perfect, ass up in the air and, fuck, he thinks he won’t last long. Swallowing hard, he moves and places his hands on your hips.

“Is that alright?” He asks and you nod.

“Y-yes.”

That’s all he needs. Moving forward, his right hand grabs his erect cock, leading it to your core. God, you’re wet. No problem at all to slide into you, into your seemingly perfect pussy that begins to squeeze him right away. Seungcheol is sure there are stars dancing in front of his head already. 

His size almost takes you out. The stretch hurts deliciously and the second he is buried fully inside of you, your head drops and a moan you couldn’t suppress even if you wanted to makes Seungcheol thrust for the first time. He starts out slow but deep, trying to hold on longer by not speeding up. While the goal is obvious, he doesn’t just want to cum inside of you and leave. No, he wants to make this a good experience for both of you. So, he listens to the sounds you make to the way your pussy clenches, the way your body shoves back against him. You seem to like it deep, seem to want it harder and, fuck, if Seungcheol wasn’t so keen on still kind of keeping it professional he would push your head into your pillows and fuck you til you begged him to never stop. 

All that fills the air is the moans both of you let out as well as the sound of skin on skin, of his cock sinking into your wetness over and over again. You want to scream, want to tell him to go harder, faster. All sense of professionalism is slowly but surely leaving your body and when his big hands squeeze your hips, you finally falter. 

“H-harder, please!” You cry out and Seungcheol twitches inside of you, nodding to himself before doing as he’s asked. He leans forward, his hips hitting yours harder and faster than before, fingers digging into your skin as he groans in pleasure. 

“Fuck!” Your hands grab the sheets, knuckles white just when your first orgasm hits. Throwing your head back, crying out in nothing but pure bliss, leaving Seungcheol speechless. He can feel your climax around him, can feel you clenching, vibrating almost. He can feel just how good you squeeze him and there is no stopping his own release following right away, spurts of hot cum painting your warm walls white. He fucks both of you through your orgasms, sweat running down his face and finally pulls out, wishing the light was on so he could see his seed spilling out of you. 

You turn around, falling onto your back, your eyes closed. 

“That… wow.” You can’t find words. Mainly because you can’t even remember the last time someone fucked you this good. Seungcheol licks over his lips.

“Can I turn the light on?” He asks then and something in his voice makes chills run down your back. Your eyes fly open and you bite back down onto your lip before telling him yes. Once the light is back on, you feel another wave of lust rush over you. He’s fully naked. He’s sweaty. He’s perfect. Blonde hair sticking to his forehead, brown eyes taking in every bit of your body that’s free for him to see. Different from what you had believed you don’t feel uncomfortable. More so the opposite. His gaze on your body seems to light you on fire, making you crave more. 

“You’re beautiful.” He lets his hands fall down onto your bare thighs, slowly pushing them apart. His cock hardens again at the sight of your pussy, his cum slowly dripping out of you.. You allow yourself to check him out, seeing how his blood rushes down, how much he enjoys the view. 

“I think… I think maybe another round… would make the probability higher that it works.” Another thing you say before it registers. 

The smug smile appearing on his face now almost makes you gasp. It’s so different from the person he was downstairs, from the shy and slightly awkward man who didn’t know where to look. Now, he looks like a wild animal with its eyes set on its prey. Oh, god.

He leans forward, hands still on your thighs and your throat goes dry. His tongue licks over his bottom lip and his eyes seem to already fuck you a second time. 

“We should get this back inside, don’t you think?” It takes you by surprise when you feel his fingers on your core, when you feel him gathering his release and shove it back inside you, his thick fingers splitting you open deliciously. This time you can’t stop the gasp, your hands moving to hold onto his forearms, eyes wide and mouth dropped.

“That’s right, take all of Daddy’s cum,” his lips are right by your ear and your body is hit by an enormous wave of lust, your pussy clenching around his fingers as he keeps fucking them into you. Moans escape you and your head falls back - at least you think it does until you feel his other hand on the back of your neck holding it steady.

“Look at me,” he breathes, “look at me when I fuck my first load back into you before giving you another one.” 

You whimper as you nod, eyes watering from the desperation of wanting to cum again. Seungcheol is sure to give you as many orgasms as you can take. As many rounds as you let him have you.

His plump lips are opened as he watches you, your sweaty face, your blown pupils, your obvious need for more. Fuck, he’s a goner. Before knowing what he’s doing, he’s leaning in even more, crashing your lips together. Your eyes flutter shut immediately and you kiss him back, opening your lips to invite him inside. He groans against your mouth, his tongue sliding into your warmth, feeling yours a few seconds later. 

The kiss is heated and desperate and every vein in your body seems to be on fire. Your heart is pounding at triple speed in your chest and when Seungcheol parts for air, you’re already craving him again. You want to touch him, want him to hold you close when he’s back inside of you, when he gives you what you need, what you want. There seem to be no coherent thoughts left in your brain as he continues to kiss you with his fingers buried inside your sweet cunt. 

“Do you even know how hot you are, fuck,” he breathes against your lips now, pulling his fingers out of you to have both his hands on you the next second. He kisses you again, hungry for your touch. Hands all over you, gliding from your hips to your breasts, getting rid of the shirt you were still wearing. He wants to see all of you, lose himself in your body, wants to get high on what it feels like to know you want him just as bad as he wants you. This isn’t just about making you a mum anymore. Seungcheol wants to give you pleasure, wants to treat you the way you deserve. He saw it in your eyes earlier - saw how you want it hard and rough, heard it in your pleads for him. 

“On your knees, face me.” It’s an order you’re more than happy to follow. You bite down onto your lip and get on your knees, looking up at him. God, he looks ethereal. 

“Good girl, so, so good for me.” You shiver when he lets his fingers slide over your face, down to your mouth, sliding them in. You suck them in without having to be asked. They taste like you and him and your eyes roll back when he begins to fuck them down your throat, his free hand cradling your tits again. 

“That’s right. Fuck.” 

It’s like he is in a trance, hypnotized by the way you look with his fingers in your mouth, knowing full well his seed is still inside and will soon be joined by more. He feels like he is addicted to you already, like he just can’t get enough of you. He wants to taste you, wants to have you come on his cock over and over again.

His eyes are glued to you. You, who is sucking on his fingers so prettily, your tongue swirling around the digits and Seungcheol grows impatient. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and instead grabs his half hard cock with his slicked up fingers, jerking himself off a few times, eyes never leaving yours. 

“Open up wide for me, baby girl.” 

His cock slides through your lips and into your mouth and your eyes roll back, tongue already pressing against his thick length. The groan he lets out makes slick run down your thighs. You want him so bad, your pussy is throbbing and clenching and you feel like your head has never been this dizzy before. Nothing but arousal is in the air, the smell of you and him and what you’ve done just as hypnotizing as your eyes. 

Working forward slowly, Cheol watches as you take more and more of him down your perfect throat, his own mouth hanging low. No one has ever looked as good with his cock in their mouth. He doubts anyone ever will. He’s big, he knows he is and while he wants to be careful with you - he also wants to ruin you. Wants to see drool dripping down your chin, wants to hear you choke on his huge cock. 

“Take it all, I know you can.” He pushes further, his tip gliding down your throat and you choke, your eyes filling with tears, but there is no part of you that isn’t fully enjoying this. You want him to fuck your mouth, to be rough, harsh. Want to be used by him all while having him breed you later on. He watches you, watches the first tear and the first small pool of drool, his cock growing heavier on your tongue by the second.

“Look at you. So, so pretty. Getting Daddy’s cock hard so he can breed you again, isn’t that so nice of you?”

He does his first thrust down your throat and you choke once more, followed by a moan around his cock that makes him groan. Everything around him is a blur. There is only you and your mouth, the warmth of it, the feeling of how your throat restricts around his length, how you seem to vibrate around him. 

Getting your throat fucked certainly wasn’t on your list of probable things happening tonight. But you lose yourself in the feeling of him using you to get off. Feeling him grow harder in your mouth, spit dripping from your mouth onto your bed, his taste ever so present. God, you wanna devour him until he explodes inside of you. 

As much as he enjoys this, though, there is a reason he is here. With a last hard thrust down your excellent throat, he pulls out, watching you gain back your breath, your eyes fluttering open and looking at him with such desperate want it makes shivers run down his back. 

There is no need for words - he leans forward, pushing you over so you’re on your back, his lips catching yours in another heated kiss. His hand is around his cock, leading it to your entrance. The tip breaches you and you moan into the kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him even closer. Your legs almost automatically set around his waist, his cock sinking as deep into you as possible.

“Fuck,” he breathes, settling inside of you, giving him and you a second to adjust. God, he could already shoot his load. You feel perfect around him. Like you were made for him and only him. It suddenly bothers him - the fact he’s gonna get you pregnant and never see you again. The thought is scary, and he might have spiraled into something - but you have a different idea. 

Wiggling your hips, you are whining into his mouth, trying to finally get him to move. Your pussy squeezes him, begs him and Cheol is just a man after all. He does his first thrust that is quickly followed by more. Soon, both of your moans are filling the room, his lips kissing every inch of you he can reach, your heartbeat rapidly increasing. You feel like you’re in a different dimension, a dimension that only exists for you and Seungcheol and your pleasure. You arch your back, his mouth on your tits, sucking and biting them, your moans getting louder every second. 

While you don’t want it to end, you also want nothing more than for him to fill you up again. Feel him twitch and lose control because of you. Your nails dig into his muscular back just as he leans back, his dark eyes staring into yours as he fucks you harder, his hands shoving your thighs back, his movements becoming more fluid. Your eyes roll back and you sure you can feel him in your stomach, or no, you can feel him everywhere.

“Look at you, so fucking beautiful, could look at you forever.” 

You wonder if he knows what those words do to you. If he knows how hot he is, how ethereal he looks. Probably. With your mouth and eyes wide, your body in his hands and your pussy crying, begging, yearning for release, you let yourself fall. Fall down into the greatest pleasure of your life, waves and waves of it hitting you, liquid shooting out of you and onto Cheol’s cock and thighs, loud and lewd moans leaving your throat as you reach the highest height you’ve ever been.

Seungcheol’s response is the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard, his own eyes not able to stay open as he fucks into you faster and harder, so close to bursting. And when he does, when he lets go as well, when all he has to give is ready to be given - there is no stopping the wave of yet another orgasm hitting you. Spurts of white are met by your pussy squeezing him, by you crying out his name over and over while his hips crash against yours at rapid speed over and over again. 

Then, he collapses on top of you. Your legs fall into their natural position and your hands find the back of his head, stroking through his wet strands of hair. You are both panting, his chest glued to yours. Sweat and drool and other bodily fluids give the air the smell of sex and you wonder how long it’ll linger in your bedroom. You’re not sure you ever want it to leave. Or him, for that matter.

It takes a good couple of minutes before Seungcheol is able to lift his head to look at you. His eyes sparkle and you smile, one hand wandering to cup his cheek and caress it softly.

“Hi,” you whisper. He can’t help but smile back.

“Hi,” he replies quitely. 

He kisses you after. Soft and sweet. He is still buried inside of you, keeping his cum inside you, making sure it’s all right where it belongs. The thought makes him wonder. Makes him ask himself why it feels like it’s not just his seed that belongs to you. He doesn’t dare to speak what’s on his mind. Instead, he just continues to kiss you.

Unknowingly that you were just thinking the exact same thought as him. 

#svthub #seungcheol x reader #kvanity #scoups smut #ksmutsociety #scoups x reader #seventeen smut #seungcheol smut #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen imagine #scoups imagine #seungcheol fanfiction #seventeen x reader

[ticktokrobotsnot]

Hurricane

This is part 1. You can read part 2 here.

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x fem!reader 

Summary: The upcoming bachelor party that Carmen has to cater causes some tension between him and y/n. 

Word Count: 9.5k 

warning: alcohol, mentions of throwing up out of nervousness but no one actually does, or even comes close, fighting, smoking

--

Three hundred thousand dollars, what kind of fucking moron takes out three hundred thousand dollars just to blow his brains out and let his younger brother foot the bill. What kind of cosmic douche does that to another person? Y/n would never say something like that out loud but she certainly was thinking it after Carmen told her about the debts that he apparently owes on top of the bills he had yet to pay. In fact, Carmen was barely scraping by, he cut his pay check till all he had was enough to cover rent and the bare bones necessities. Rather than cut anyone’s pay, or cheaping out on ingredients, he sacrificed almost everything for this restaurant, for his brother. And what did his brother leave him? A three hundred thousand dollar bill. Once again, what a dick. 

“It’s not-” Carmen started. “It’s fixable.”

Y/n didn’t say anything, she continued to scrub the stop top and kept her face neutral when in reality her blood was boiling. It’s not her debt and she is completely free to run away before this ship sinks but she couldn’t help but stay. She had convinced herself that the reason she stayed was because this horrible and completely fucked restaurant was like a train wreak, you can't help but stand and watch it crash and burn. Definitely not because of any other personal reasons. 

“We just have to keep our heads down and get through the year and we can get some money off of our tab.” 

More silence.

They both knew it was a pipe dream, no matter what they did at the restaurant, they could only make an insignificant dent towards the impending debt. Y/n didn’t want to be negative when Carmen was doing his best to not crumble under the pressure so she looked up with a small smile. She wondered if the smile translated as an optimistic smile or a pity smile.

Carmen sighed, leaned against the wall and rubbed his face with his palms in an effort to wipe away some tension. Looks like it translated as a pity smile. 

“Tell me something good, y/n.”  Carmen mumbled through his hands.

It was like the words were lost in her mouth. What could she possibly say? What collection of words makes this shitty situation any better? The answer is none, sometimes words mean nothing. No amount of consoling or baseless optimism could make this situation look good. If you can’t make a shitty situation look good then you should at least make a shitty solution look good. 

“At least you have those bachelor parties, you can knock off a few grand.” Y/n offered.

“Yeah,” Carmen agreed half-heartedly. Looks like she couldn’t make the shitty solution look good either. Y/n gave herself one more attempt to lighten the mood before she sewed her mouth shut, crawled into a hole and died. 

“And let's not forget that your “loan shark” is your uncle and he won’t smash your kneecaps.” Y/n jokingly muttered, “Probably?”

Y/n heard Carmen exhale through his nose. Y/n lives to speak and live another day. After testing the waters for the past few months, y/n realized that in order to get Carmen to stop going into crisis mode she had to either talk about a solution or completely distract him. 

“What's the payment situation going to be like? …What is the interest?”

“No …no interest, just a clean 300k.”

“That's fair, adding interest on a loan like that would be like throwing shit in a septic tank. When is the bachelor party?”

“Uncle Jimmy is coming by tomorrow to give the details for that stupid fucking party.”

One quality that has persisted through out the years was y/n ability to not know when to shut the fuck up. The trait was helpful when filling the silence between the both of them. Carmen liked to listen more than talk, he didn't have anything to talk about except depressing shit. So when the air was filled with anxiety and tension y/n did what she did best, make a damn fool of herself.

“You think there's going to be strippers?”

Carmen looked up from his hands and gave out a laugh out of shock and it sounded like music to y/n ears. She wished she could record it, he really did have a nice smile and she wished he smiled more. Good god, he looked so… so…

“There will be at least strippers.” Carmen snickered while hiding his smirk behind his hands. It's like he knew she was waiting for it and was depriving her on purpose. This was a good learning moment for y/n though, shock humor lands well with Carmen. 

Y/n moved on to scrubbing the floor because she wasn’t able to look Carmen in the eyes after asking, “Have you ever been to a strip club?” 

She didn’t even have to look up to know what kind of look she was getting. She heard a bewildered laugh and looked up and was met with  an amazing view. His head was thrown back and his hand was running through his hair. 

For a brief moment, y/n tried to convince herself that all of the embarrassment she put herself through wasn’t worth it but after stealing a few glimpses of him she could confidently say it most definitely was.

“No I haven’t. You?” He then straightened his head and grabbed a towel and started scrubbing too.

“Of course, I've been. I used to work in one, you know?” Carmen’s head shot up.

“Yeah, but I needed a career change.”

“You worked in one? As a… dancer?” Carmen asked not quite being able to tell if this was a joke or not.

“You call strippers “dancers”? What are you, 90? No, I was not a “dancer.” I was a bartender.”

“Hmm” Carmen pondered before adding, “I knew you couldn't be one, I saw you slip on air this morning.” 

“My lack of coordination aside,” y/n rolled her eyes jokingly, “I spent a lot of time seeing the routines and stuff and I could never, I can barely run a mile let alone swing around on a pole. Those strippers are stronger and braver than the Marines.” 

“I have a cousin in the Marines,” Carmen added while scrubbing a particularly tough stain.

“Tell him that he’s a little bitch.”

Carmen stopped scrubbing and gwaffed into his fist. On the outside she looked normal but inside she was scratching the skin off her face in joy. She really wanted to seal the deal.

“Would you ever be a stripper?”

3-0 favoring y/n because Carmen looked up at her and laughed, and not a reserved one. A full one with an open mouth and red face. 

Holy fuck… what the fuck was she doing? She could be home right now rewatching a nature documentary to unwind.  She should be asleep right now. It's 12am and here she is sitting with her boss on the floor counting how many times she can make him feel good. And the worst part?  She was enjoying herself. 

“I don’t think I would make a good one.” He said as he moved closer to y/n and scrubbed at another scuff mark. 

He would make a great one, y/n thought. He has huge arms, a quiet but powerful persona, a sculpted face, and beautiful eyes. Y/n had to resist the impulse to say that she would throw all her money at him right this second. 

“It's your eyes.” Y/n humorously pondered, “They’re too intense, am I going to get a lap dance or am I going to get into a long and meaningful relationship?” 

Carmen's gaze lifted towards y/n, and she wrestled the urge to lock her gaze with his mesmerizing cerulean eyes. She wanted to etch into her memory the way the yellowing lights danced upon his irises, as they transitioned shades, but the flutters in her stomach were making her woozy. 

Y/n was a coward, so unsurprisingly she looked away, but not before stupidly adding, “You could add a blindfold to your act, I bet that would make the girls go wild.” 

What in the flying fuck was she talking about, y/n screamed in her head. Y/n had some nerve calling The Beef a train wreck when she was watching herself crash and burn and not being able to stop herself. It felt like an out of body experience, like she was watching someone else fuck up her life. 

Carmen looked like he was thinking about something and y/n wondered if she would have the courage to pick up her last check after she got her ass fired. 

“Judging by the amount of shit I have to deal with in this stupid fucking place, being a stripper is starting to look more and more…” Carmen stared at y/n for a split moment,  “tempting.” 

Y/n was glad that he had inadvertently stopped her from saying something really stupid but she needed a quiet place all to herself so she could squeal like a teenage girl.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, y/n was starting to notice how close they were and in order to stop herself from getting a sued for sexual harassment she forced herself to call it a night, and that was a tough call to make. Y/n smiled at Carmen before softly mummering, “Carmy, you’ve got a big day tomorrow why don’t we get you home?”

Carmen's posture straightened, and a slight haze seemed to veil his eyes. Rising to his feet, he extended a hand towards y/n. In the instant their palms met, a surge of thoughts flooded y/n's mind, realizing how deeply she would miss this touch once they released. The fleeting moment barely allowed her to relish the sensation, leaving her with only a passing recollection of his hand—warm, calloused, and undeniably strong.

After grabbing their stuff from the lockers, y/n glanced at her phone that showed 12:14am. The walk home was going to be a real bitch. Carmen did one last walk through before leaving. Y/n could have left after she got her stuff but she stayed for a bit longer. She leaned against the windows of The Beef watching Carmen leave the restaurant and lock the door. He didn't look a bit surprised at her still waiting for him, he knew she would always be there waiting. It was a tradition, they would close up and he would walk y/n to her car. He would wait till y/n car was completely out of sight before he climbed into his car and drove to his place. 

“Where did you park your car?” Carmen asked while shuffling through his bag to find his own car keys. 

“My car is at the shop, I'm going to walk home.” 

“You're going to walk home after dark? It's like 1 in the morning?”

“It's 12:30 and it's not that big of a deal, and if I get tired I'll just uber the rest of the way home.”

“That's how people get kidnapped, y/n”

“Don't worry, even if I do get kidnapped, I'll still miraculously make it to work on time tomorrow, and I'll have an epic tale to share for years to come." Y/n joked. "Why don’t I walk you to your car for a change? Where did you park?"

Carmen hesitated, not because he didn't want to offer a ride but because he didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. It's just a ride home, it's not like ridesharing amongst coworkers is something new. 

“Let me drive you home. This is not a great neighborhood.”

“My place is opposite from your place, I'm not going to hold you hostage. Go home, you have a big day tomorrow.” Y/n pulled up Google maps to see how long the walk would take, 35 minutes wasn't too bad. 

“It's fine, I wasn't going to sleep right away anyways.”

Y/n shot a disapproving look. "Do you honestly think I was born yesterday? I mean, come on. You're planning to stay up late after a long day at work today and another one tomorrow?"

“Let me do this for you…Please.”

Y/n was contemplating beating his ass with one of the 2x4s lying around, how fucking dare he look at her like that when she is already holding her self back from jumping his bones. It was maddening. In that moment, the streetlight cast an ethereal glow upon his hair, transforming it into strands of pure gold. She couldn't deny the captivating effect it had on her. And that infuriating expression he wore, as if he had the power to make her surrender to his every whim, was driving her wild. If he had asked for her kidney with that look, she might have found herself on her knees, desperately clawing at her own abdomen to fulfill his request.

“Ok, thank you so much Carmen. You really are…kind.” Y/n tried not to look at his eye because she knew that she would feel another flutter and now she had an audience watch her throw up from overstimulation. 

“It’s the least I can do.” Carmen didn’t have the courage to thank her for making him feel better about the restaurant’s financial situation so this was the best he could do. 

They both walked to Carmen’s car in silence. Y/n had an unstoppable itch to fill the silence with some asinine conversation but she resisted. She knew as soon as she got home she would scream into her pillow for bringing up strippers and blindfolds to her boss, and she didn’t want to add more things to cringe about. They could be 85 and she would still pucker her face when remembering this night.  

They finally walked up to Carmen’s car, and Carmen opened y/n’s door for her. Y/n had to keep from fainting right then and there, she was a grown woman and Carmen was doing the bare minimum by helping out an employee and here she was fighting a blush. He walked over to the driver side and started the car. 

“You good?” 

“Sorry.” Y/n hands were shaking from the nerves.

“I can't find the seat belt connector thing, it's too dark." 

Carmen wordlessly grabbed the seatbelt from the base and trailed down the belt, softly grazing his knuckle on her collarbone before gently taking the buckle from y/n's hands and guiding it to the right place. 

Y/n mumbled a soft thanks. They both looked away for a second, both of them completely floored by Carmen’s boldness. Y/n couldn’t take this anymore she needed to get out of here before she became a stuttering mess, “Let me look up the directions, I’m geographically blind so I need Google to tell me where to go. I've been working here for months and I still need someone to tell me to get home.” Carmen pushed his tongue against his cheek to stifle another laugh. 

“Geographical blind”, who says that? That's literally the lamest fucking thing you could possibly say. Y/n was going to go home and watch a few meditation videos in the hope that she learns how to shut the fuck up. 

The ride back was nice and quiet. Y/n was too tired to talk and she was starting to feel guilty for making Carmen drive her home, he should be even more tired than her. They finally pulled over to y/n’s place, and she sat in the car for a few seconds to ground herself before she looked over to Carmen who was looking straight through the windshield. 

“Thanks again Carmen.” 

“Will your car be back tomorrow?” 

“The day after.” 

“I’ll drop you off tomorrow then.”

“That's too much Carmen, You aren’t obligated to do this. I’ll just leave a little earlier so I can catch a train.” Carmen looked like he was not satisfied with that response. Y/n didn’t want to leave early because she liked her time alone with Carmen but she couldn’t keep imposing. 

“I’ll drop you off, it's not a big deal.” He left no room for negotiation. 

Y/n smiled at him before grabbing her purse. Carmen got out of the car and walked around to y/n’s side to open her door. Y/n got out with as much grace as a toddler, she really needed to go to bed. 

“Carmen, you really are too… you're just too…” Y/n struggled to find a good enough word before mindlessly blurting out, “Good.” 

Y/n couldn’t see his face because the streetlamp was too far to illuminate his face so she didn’t know if she made him uncomfortable. 

“Thanks again, I’ll see you tomorrow Carm.” Y/n softly mumbled before walking into her building and while waiting for the elevator she saw that Carmen was still leaning against the car door. She gave him a small smile not seeing if she got one back. The elevator ride up was filled with y/n jumping, dry heaving, and overall panic induced mayhem. The second hand embarrassment was too much. The elevator dinged and she went into her place and looked out the window to really burn the memory into her brain. This is the exact date and location where Carmen dropped her off. 

She was surprised to see that he was still there. Everyone at work knew what apartment building she lived in because she invited them over for dinner recently, so it wasn’t a surprise that he knew the general area on where to look for her apartment. 

She flicked on the lights and picked up her phone to dial him and watched as his silhouette fumble around to  find his phone. 

Carmen spoke first, “I just wanted to make sure you…”

“I got home safe.” Y/n opened her window before giving him a wave from five stories. 

Y/n continued, “Go home, chef, I want to see you bright and early tomorrow.” She saw a blur of what she deciphered as a wave. 

“Night y/n”

And with that y/n closed her window and Carmen drove off. It was 1 in the morning so she didn’t jump or scream into her pillow like she intended to because her neighbors would kill her. So she settled for a shower and eventually passed out. 

Y/n was not a morning person my all means and told Carmen as an off handed comment a few months back. He offered her later hours so she didn’t need to come in super early for prep but she could stay to clean up. She got ready and got to the restaurant at around 11:30 am, where she found Carmen, Richie and an older man seated on a table at the far corner of the restaurant.

 Before she could slip away to make herself busy in the kitchen, she was called over by the older gentlemen with a finger curl. Y/n turned around assuming that he was indicating someone else only to find that no one else was there but her. She looked over again and pointed at herself and Richie rolled his eyes before kicking the chair next to him to indicate that she was to sit. Y/n took off her headphones and sat across from the old guy and in between the cousins. Carmen looked up and wordlessly gave her a polite greeting. 

If this was money problems why is this old fart calling me over? 

Awkward silence.

“Good morning.” Y/n started.

“Morning, did Carmen fill you in?” Carmen’s “uncle” asked.

"I'd be delighted to put a name to your face. I'm y/n," she said with a warm smile.

“I'm Cicero…” Y/n pretended to look a bit puzzled, “Uncle Jimmy, yes, yes, Carmen told me you were coming today”

No one filled the silence so y/n stepped in. 

“As much as I love the mystery, I do have work to do…so…why am I here?” 

Cicero spoke up, “Carmy’s got that catering gig at that bachelor party on Friday and we were wondering if you would like to help.”

“Catering to a bunch of drunks on Friday night, seems like exhilarating” Y/n said sarcastically.  “I'll be there. I’ve got to the kitchen, I shouldn’t leave Tina alone with my prep-” 

“Look, I'm going to be honest with you…” Cicero continued, Y/n glanced sideways at both Richie and Carmen but they looked as confused as she did. 

“Did you work out front a week ago?” Cicero asked.

“I covered for Richie on Tuesday?”

“One of the guys, the groom, saw you and thought you…looked…” It looked like he was embarrassed to finish what he wanted to say. “They want you to be there.” Cicero finished.

“This is what you were holding off on, we’ve been sitting here for 20 minutes in fucking silence so you could solicit a fucking chef?” Richie said in confusion before laughing and leaning back to glance at Carmen on the far right who was visibly livid, which caused him to laugh even more obnoxiously. 

“Be there and do what?” Y/n pondered, a flicker of concern crossing her mind. She couldn't help but wonder if this was how human trafficking stories began. She wasn’t really paying attention to either Carmen or Richie, but she could feel that it was getting tense on her right, where Carmen was seated.

“I'm just going to rip off the bandaid. They want you there to serve drinks.” Y/n couldn’t hide the look of bewilderment and relief. 

“Jesus, you were making it seem like I was going to have to sleep with them…Yes I can serve drinks. I’ll be there” Y/n got up from her chair and Cicero added.

“Do you know what a Hurricane Shot is, y/n?” 

Y/n immediately sat right back down, she let out a laugh and she was in decent company because Richie was also dying right next to her.

“They want that…” Cicero finished awkwardly. 

Carmen looked up after trying to burn a hole into his table. “What the fuc-” Carmen fumed. 

“What’s the pay like?” Y/n asked.

“Without you 5k, with 10k”. That made Richie stop laughing. 

“Let me think about it.” 

Y/n got up and walked out back. She stole a quick glance at Carmen who was sharing some choice words with his “uncle.” Y/n thought that she might as well get back to work. She was going to serve drinks no matter what but she had a feeling that she would get some resistance. 

The rest of the shift was relatively slow and Carmen was in his office for most of the day. Around 8, it looked like there weren't going to be any more customers so Carmen finally got out of his cave and let everyone leave early. He stood with his back straight and arms crossed in front of his office, his eyes narrowed at y/n. Y/n thought she could not deal with the brunt of this confrontation by herself, so she looked at Richie trying to nonverbally communicate for him to stay. Luckily, Richie understood and stayed and it was just the three of them alone at the restaurant. 

Carmen went inside and it was implied that the both of them should follow. 

“I'm going to serve at that party.” Y/n whispered.

“Yeah, no shit you are.” Richie agreed while whispering a lot less quietly. 

“It's 10 grand.” Y/n reasoned

“Who says no to 10 fucking grand?” Richie exclaimed.

They both walked over to the office. Y/n stood against the wall, it felt like she was being sent to the principal's office. 

The silence was killing y/n so she started, “It's just one day.”

“Only a few hours” Richie offered

“Which is basically just a few minutes.” Y/n reasoned. 

“Which is really just a few seconds.” Richie added.

More silence. 

“It's a lot of money cousin, and y/n is up for it.”

“Yeah, 10k in a few hours. I mean it would be totally crazy to say no.” Y/n remarked.

“You would be fucking crazy to say no.” 

“Yeah, Carmen, it would be pure idiocy to say no.” Y/n chimed in.

Carmen rubbed his temple and then looked up. “That is not happening. You aren’t doing this.” 

“It's 10k, Carmen, and all I have to do is pour some drinks. It's like money is just falling on our laps, we have to take advantage of this golden opportunity.” Y/n added, “God helps those who help themselves.” 

“You're religious?” Richie questioned

“No, but he’s Italian and they're religious, right? I thought it might help my case.” Y/n whispered.

“I can fucking hear the both of you.” Carmen was annoyed and y/n realized she didn’t really know how to convince him to let her help him. 

“What specific issue do you have with me bartending at this party?” If she got to the root of the problem she could find a solution that helped ease his worries. 

Carmen brooded in his corner. People didn’t give Richie enough credit, he was pretty good at reading a room and he knew that it would be better if he left Carmen to y/n. 

“I got something tonight.” Richie spewed out before turning around to get the hell out of there. As he was about to leave he mouthed You got this? Y/n gave him a subtle thumbs up.

They both stood in silence hearing the sounds of Richie walking around the kitchen to grab his keys and get his charger in the front, and eventually the door chimed meaning that it was now just Carmen and y/n. 

“Tell me what the issue is. Do you have safety concerns?” 

“That's one of many concerns.” Carmen knew he was being difficult but he couldn’t let this happen. 

“I'm just pouring drinks, I'm not going to be doing anything super dangerous.” 

“You are going to be pouring drinks for coked out dickheads. How is that not dangerous?”

“It’s nothing I haven’t done before. Besides, your uncle told me that I'm going to be giving hurricane shots, if anything I'm the dangerous one.”

Carmen looked up and furrowed his eyebrows. “Do I even want to know what that is?”

“You don’t know what it is?” Y/n had to resist snickering. “So basically, you would take a shot, then I would splash water on you and slap you…Do you want to see a video?” Y/n ushered Carmen to the only chair in the office.

Carmen didn’t know why he was humoring this and he didn’t want to admit it but he was wondering what the appeal of getting slapped was. If it's just slapping a few guys then maybe it wasn’t too bad…

Y/n pulled up a video and any bit of him that could have been convinced to let this happen shriveled up and died. It was a video of a woman in a very revealing dress sitting on a table splashing and slapping horny middled aged fucks. Absolutely not.  

Y/n looked up from the video and saw that she made it worse. Carmen was sitting silently in his worn out chair, not even looking at the video just staring at the floor. 

Carmen felt a hand on his shoulder and felt y/n come closer, he could feel her breath on his neck and it was making it hard to breathe. Softly, y/n whispered, “Carmen, you are being perfectly reasonable and very respectful but this is a once in a lifetime situation.” 

A soft pause passed while y/n was trying to formulate the right words.

“You do so much for me so let me take care of you, Carmy.” Y/n rarely called him that and the name slid down his spine causing him to shiver. 

Without even having time to think about what just came out his mouth, he mumbled a soft “yeah”. Carmen looked just as shocked as y/n. Neither of them were expecting that, y/n was expecting to have to postpone convincing him till tomorrow. 

Now the next hurdle was making sure that Carmen didn’t change his mind. “Why don’t you stay with me during the party? That way if anything happens you'll be there. Will you be my designated bodyguard for the night, Carmen?" Y/n playfully feigned a pout, allowing Carmen to remain silent, sensing that he might need some space to process the request

She slipped out before taking a deep breath, Jesus that was stressful. People killed each other for 10k and he was just going to throw it away. Y/n wasn’t going to let that happen, even if he said no she would have snuck into that party and got Carmen his 10k. 

She surveyed the kitchen, it was spotless. There really wasn’t much to do because the other chefs had done most of it but she had a feeling that if she left Carman alone, he would change his mind. So, she did what she did every single day, scrub these stupid floors.  

A few minutes had passed and y/n was wondering about what she should wear to an event like that? A small dress was a necessity but she only had a small black one from her college years. Would it even fit, it's been years since she last put it on? She needed to find her old pair of black pumps from college too, she knew they were deep in her closet. And while she scrubbed and planned her outfit for Friday, Carmen came out of his office and joined her wordlessly, taking the towel from y/n’s hands and scrubbing for her. 

He finally looked up, “I will be by your side the entire time. You can’t go anywhere unless I can see you-”

“What if I have to use the bathroom?” 

“No.” 

“No?”

“What if some sleazy fucker is waiting in the bathroom?”

“I doubt it. But ok, I'll hold it.”

“You can't cross the counter.” Y/n wasn’t going to anyways. 

“And I have to drive you home.” That stupefied y/n. 

“What? Why?” 

”What if one of those limp dicked pervs follows you home?”

“Carmen, you’re thinking too much. You don’t need to worry about me.” 

“I’m not letting you do this unless-” 

“Alright Carmen. We will do this your way.” Y/n gave him a smile to show that they were good. 

Carmen quickly glanced down and continued scrubbing the floor. The rest of the night was spent cleaning the floor and eventually neither of them could come up with any other excuses to stay together. There is only so much time you can spend scrubbing and organizing an already spotless kitchen.

They both went back to the lockers, grabbed their stuff, did a final walk through, and locked up. Carmen drove her home, y/n said goodbye through the phone and waved out the window. Y/n knew that this routine couldn’t last because she would pick up her car tomorrow morning but she was debating slashing a few tires just to make this last a bit longer. 

The next day y/n came in at 11:30 and was pulled aside by Richie. 

“Is it handled?”

“It's a bartending gig not an assassination. And yes.”

“That bastard said yes?” Shocked didn’t really cover what Richie felt.

Y/n shrugged her shoulders, “I know you wanna crack a few jokes but he is tethering and I don't want him to-”

“No wise cracks.”

“Also, the crew thinks I'm catering, could you keep the bartending underwraps.”

“Sure thing princess.”

“Do not-”

They were cut off by Fak and y/n took that as her sign to leave. Other than that, the day was exactly the same. The only other difference was that at the end of the night she had to walk to her car with Carmen. 

“You can back out, you know. This debt is my brother's… and now it's mine. You shouldn't get involved in this shit show.”

“Do you feel like you're taking advantage of me?” Carmen didn’t say anything. 

“How about you give me the day off tomorrow and we'll call it even. Paid leave.” 

Carmen smirked, “That's not really even.” 

“I'm giving you less than 24 hours notice and don’t even have a good reason to miss work tomorrow, I'm being a bad employee and you're going to let me get away with it. It seems plenty even to me.” They had ended their night relatively early, it was only 11pm and y/n wanted a few more minutes with Carmen, so she took a few wrong turns. Was that a selfish thing to do?  Yes. But did it feel right? Also, yes. 

They finally “found" her car. Carmen opened the door for her after she unlocked it. Y/n pulled out her parking spot and then drove off. But she didn’t forget to wave out the window and in the rear view window she could see that he was waving back. Y/n drove for a few minutes before double parking in an open street to rest her forehead on the steering wheel. She rolled up her windows and squealed. It felt good to be able to do that after holding it in for the last few days. She composed herself and drove home. 

The next morning was brutal because she had to completely gut her closet to find that black dress and heels. After a few hours she found them in the same box that held her cap and gown. She laid them on her bed and then went to get a haircut. On her way back she saw a tattoo parlor and walked in and asked if they had any temporary tattoos lying around. They found one wedged between some binders, it was a large rose. 

The night was quickly approaching and she had to leave soon. She had finished getting ready and right as she was about to leave she remembered the rose tattoo. Y/n ran to the skin, and peeled her dress up leaving her thigh exposed and placed the rose tattoo there. She grabbed a long black jacket and then she called an uber to take her to The Beef. The jacket covered up her cleavage but her legs were mostly bare and she regretted not wearing a pair of sweats for the commute. 

The restaurant was closed slightly early but it still was pitch black when she got there. Richie and Carmen were finishing up moving chairs and tables. Y/n walked in and the chime alerted them that y/n had arrived. 

“Hey guys. When does the party start? Am I too early?”

Carmen’s face betrayed nothing so she couldn’t really tell what he was thinking. Richie smirked, “The band of dickheads are coming in about 20 minutes.” 

“Can I see what the booze situation looks like?” She got a short tour of what the food and drinks situation was going to look like. She hadn’t taken off her jacket because it was still a bit chilly.

“Carmen, can you turn up the heat?” Carmen walked over to the thermostat in his office to adjust it to y/n comfort. With only 5 minutes before the party was supposed to start, y/n thought she might as well take the jacket off.

“I feel a bit out of place, I'm the only one dressed up.” 

Richie gwaffed,” Don’t worry you’ll be in good company with the strippers. Honestly, who's going to know the difference.” Y/n raised a cup of iced water to chuck at Richie.

“Hey, save that for our esteemed guests.” Richie said as he walked as far as possible to avoid getting splashed. 

Just as y/n was about to tell Riche to fuck off, Carmen walked in. He took one look at y/n and spent the next few seconds trying to generate a coherent thought. The first wave of guests came in and Carmen lost his chance to say something but it's not like he could come up with anything marginally comprehensible anyways. In a few hours the party was in full swing. Richie was sitting in the kitchen but the thumping music, the smell of booze, the reverberating sound of obnoxious drunk laughter was giving him a migraine so he went outside for an hours long smoke break, he wondered how Carmen was doing.

Carmen was not doing fine, he was doing horrible. The lights, music, and dancing were making him nauseous. But the thing that really tested his patience was the guys ogling at you. Y/n wasn’t really paying attention to any of the guys but they were getting more and more drunk. 

The room was lit with purple and blue lights and it was difficult to tell what was happening, and even though he knew it was wrong that didn’t stop Carmen from taking a few peeks at y/n back side throughout the night. If the back was rendering him speechless he could only imagine what the front looked like. The thought that these piss pots were seeing her would send him into a blind rage but the fact that each one of them would get hit in the face made it a bit more digestible. 

A guy came up to y/n, and Carmen walked right up to them to know why this fuckhead was talking to her. The groom had asked for the first hurricane shot. Y/n sent him away for a few minutes to give her time to set up. She turned to Carmen and gave him a mischievous smirk. 

“Payback time.” 

Even though they were in a very crowded room, y/n smirk made him forget it. It was a small and private gesture and no one else would be privy to see it. It was just for Carmen and no one else. That made him feel a bit better. 

Y/n and Carmen filled up cups with very cold water just to make it hurt even more. Carmen started to put ice in the water and when y/n saw what he was doing she threw her head back to laugh. The laugh made his heart flutter but the feeling of her hand grasping him to ground herself sent a shiver down his back and it wasn't because both their hands were ice cold now. 

The room was so loud that they needed to come close to the other’s ear just to hear each other.

“You gotta put a bit more ice in this one, Carmen ”

“Who’s getting this special order?” Carmen smirked, he was having fun. 

“The groom of course. Why are you asking a stranger you meet once to slap you across the face when you have a fiancée at home? Also, what kind of sick fuck gets drunk, high, and a hand job from a stripper the week before his wedding? That level of dickbaggary deserves a face full of welts.” Carmen covers his mouth to hide his smirk. 

“It's so tacky and…and…yuck. Hard pass.” 

Carmen took that information and stored it in his vault; no drinking, drugs, or girls of any kind during his future bachelor party. He wasn’t going to do the last two anyways, but he never wanted y/n to feel “yuck” about him so he would sacrifice the alcohol for his own bachelor party. 

“Have you seen the women here? Very pretty.” Y/n teased.

Y/n didn’t really know why she even brought it up, She spent the entire night facing the crowd and got an eye full of many tits and she knows Carmen’s witnessing the same scene.  Being surrounded by a sea of stunning and jaw dropping women had triggered a sense of insecurity within her. Yet, she reminded herself that those women were there to captivate with their beauty, while her role was to serve food and drinks. And to be fair, some of her customers have dropped their jaws after eating her food, balancing the scales of admiration. As such, any lingering immaturity or jealousy dissipated into the air.

The source of unease wasn't the presence of other women, but rather Carmen himself.  Y/n had previously worked at a strip club and hadn't experienced this level of jealousy before. But now, with Carmen by her side, she found herself questioning whether he was comparing her to the other women at the party. Did she even register on his radar amidst the crowd? While their relationship remained strictly that of coworkers and friends, she appreciated that Carmen hadn't abandoned her. However, she couldn't help but feel conflicted about his presence, as she didn't want him to witness the spectacle of beautiful women giving drunk idiots lap dances.

Carmen looked up at her while his head was still bent down filling cups with ice, “Uhh, I haven’t really taken a look.” 

Y/n doubted that but she didn’t want to protest, so she hid her insecurity behind jokes. 

“You should, Mrs. Berzatto could be in this crowd.” 

“I can guarantee you that they are not.” Carmen pushed. Y/n chuckled and Carmen could swear he saw her eyes glow.

“Hey, today has probably been really stressful. You can let go for a bit. You know, blow off some steam. There are plenty of women who would love to give you a lap dance. You know that pretty blond has been eyeing you since she came in.” Y/n pointed in some general direction with a straw but Carmen didn’t even look up from the water cups. 

Carmen looked into y/n’s eyes and was trying to decipher this puzzle she had put in front of him. She was telling him to go and talk to other women and even though her tone, face, and behavior was exactly the same as before, he couldn't shake off a faint undercurrent of tension emanating from her

“I like it here.”

“So you like to watch.” Y/n smirked while turning around to fill a styrofoam cup with sprite from the soda dispenser to cool herself. She was trying to be cool but it was coming off as vaguely threatening, she needed to get her shit together. 

Carmen turned around so he was facing her direction then placed his elbows on the counter and looked up at her with those killer eyes, “Yeah I do.”

“Mr. Berzatto, have you been drinking you’ve gotten, dare I say, bold?”

Carmen raised his eyebrows in a joking manner and y/n could swear that she saw stars glisten in his irises. God, was he handsome or what? 

“I think it's time to get this show on the road.” Y/n turned around to walk around the counter so she could hop on top, she couldn't do it from behind the counter because it was filled with liquor and cups and she would knock everything over. Just as y/n was going to walk out the counter, a muscular arm blocked her from leaving. She furrowed her eyebrows, and looked up at his eyes. 

“You promised, you wouldn’t.”

“I can't get to the counter from here…why don’t you walk me over there, so that no one bothers me. Earn your keep bodyguard” Y/n softened her eyes to convince Carmen, and to her surprise he let out a sigh before removing his arm and leading her to the other side of the counter glaring at anyone who even thought about looking at y/n. Y/n’s dress was so tight and short that she couldn’t really get up without flashing everyone. She looked up at Carmen and told him about the situation she was in and how she needed a chair or something. 

Carmen brought his face close to y/n so she could clearly hear, “Can I touch you?”

Holy…mother…of…fuck. Y/n’s brain flat lines and she stumbles out a quick and breathy “yes”. 

Carmen put his hands on her waist and y/n linked her hands behind his neck and just as y/n was about to close the gap, she let out a yelp as she was hoisted onto the counter. She is starstruck, her heart is beating fast and she is resisting the urge to kiss him from up here. She had to remind herself that he was just being helpful. 

"Tattoo?"

Y/n was a mess and she needed a few seconds to understand what he was saying, "It's fake, so that if anyone takes any pictures I can pretend it's not me." It took all of y/n's will power to connect these words together. It was getting hard to think.

Carmen took one more look at y/n stradling the counter before reaching over the counter to grab the same straw y/n used to point at some other women, and lighty dragged it across her knee. 

“Your past the counter, chef” 

Y/n was in a daze, her knee felt like it was on fire and that was just from a straw. She wordlessly got up on her knees and kneeled on the counter. 

Carmen walked right back to behind the counter and passed her a heavy cup.

“For our guest of honor.” Carmen grinned. He was making her lose her breath,  y/n was going to pass out and fall off this counter. 

Y/n took the cup of water and a shot of tequila from Carmen. Their pinkies brushed each other and sent an electric shock up her arm. 

“Make it hurt.” 

Y/n gleamed. She turned towards the crowd and shouted out a short introduction before calling over the groom. She passed him the shot which he downed in record time, y/n shot a quick glance at Carmen, before splashing the water right on his face and just and he slightly relaxed his face from the original impact of the icy water, y/n gave him a loud and painful slap. The sound echoed through the restaurant, and it became silent for a brief second before cheers erupted from the crowd. The noise makes Richie peek his head inside to see what the commotion was about. The groom's face was already bright red from the alcohol and the ice and somehow the right side of his cheek looks like someone painted it scarlet, y/n gave a thumbs up to Carmen, who to her surprise returned one back. A line began to form and while y/n was making everyone pay for being annoying dicks, Carmen called over Richie. 

“Its fucking boiling in here” Carmen commented, “Can you go into my office and turn the thermostat down to like 60-65 and grab my jacket.” Richie looked like he wanted to make some smart comment but the sound of another slap echoing derailed his train of thought.  Richie took one look at y/n, and Carmen wanted to curse him out and punch him across the face, but he refrained. “Richie, the fucking thermostat.”

Richie complained but Carmen wasn’t paying attention and so he left and turned the thermostat down and threw the jacket over the counter.

“When is this shit show supposed to end?” Richie asked while judging the guests in the most unsubtle way possible. 

“Two more hours.” Carmen said while looking at y/n. Richie rolled his eyes and left and Carmen was starting to feel the cold air coming from the air vent on top of them. Y/n was starting to feel chilly too and looked over at Carmen who was already handing her a nice wool jacket, his wool jacket. She slipped it on and Carmen felt like he could finally breathe. He was beating himself for not coming up with something like this sooner. The stupid shots were finished and y/n was ready to come down from the counter. 

“My ass and thighs are numb.” Y/n said while rubbing them. Just as she looked up towards the crowd she saw that Carmen was right next to her ready to help her come down. Y/n was feeling bold, almost invincible from spending the last 30 minutes slapping men. 

“Would you like a shot?” She asked with a raised eyebrow. “You’ve seen a million guys take it, aren’t you curious?” 

Carmen was struggling to come up with something to say, he didn’t even know how to react. “I have to drive you home.” His stare was making y/n feel like she was burning from the inside. 

“A shot of water?” y/n offered. 

Carmen thought to himself, what would he regret more? Taking the shot or not taking it?

He extended his hand towards the water pitcher behind the counter to pour himself a shot of water. Y/n grabbed one of the ice cups and scooped the ice with her left hand and dumped half of the remaining water on the already flooded floor. She wanted to avoid making this as painful as possible. Y/n took off the jacket and set it down on the counter next to her. She tucked her right hand in between her thighs to keep them warm so it would sting a lot less. Carmen took one long look at where her right hand was settled and then locked onto her eyes, 

“Hit me with your best shot, chef.” 

Carmen downed the shot before locking eyes with y/n. Y/n splashed the water on his face and gave him a solid slap. Not as hard as the others were getting but not so soft that she would be accused of chickening out. Carmen’s face whipped to the left before coming back to his previous position. 

“How was that, chef?” 

It must have been the lights or the fatigue but y/n could have sworn that he glanced at her lips. Carmen’s hands circle around y/n waist to bring her down. He carried her a few feet away from where they previously were so that y/n wouldn’t step on the puddle, set her down and walked her back behind the counter. 

“I can understand the appeal.” Carmen murmured. Y/n looked at him incredulously before laughing in shock. 

Y/n was about to tease him a bit before she heard shouting from the crowd. “Do you want to step out? I think I need a break” 

Carmen welcomed a break. He handed y/n his jacket and ushered her outside where Richie was smoking. They had forgotten he was still there.

“It's nauseating in there.” Y/n exhaled. 

Carmen pulled out a cigarette in an effort to calm down. They were no longer in a party where they could pretend they had no outside obligations. He had pushed the bounds of their relationship and he wondered if the lights, music, alcohol, and seclusion together was only affecting him. He closed his eyes and inhaled. Y/n crouched down because her feet were killing her. She could feel the blisters forming but she was going to be a trooper. All she wanted to do was lay down. Carmen crouched down to match her height and raised his eyebrows to ask what was wrong. 

“I need to go to bed.” 

“20 minutes left. You can wait in the car and get some rest. I can cover for you.” 

“I need to see this place after it’s cleared out. I think I forgot what it looked like before we had it packed with drunk chodes.” That earned her a snicker from both Carmen and Richie. 

A sense of tranquil silence enveloped them, providing y/n with a much-needed opportunity to gather her thoughts. She realized that she had to prevent herself from getting lost in the overwhelming depth of Carmen's presence. It was becoming clear that she had two choices: either distance herself from him entirely or bridge the gap between them, instead of remaining in their current state of avoidance, where everything seemed to be ignored.

Just as she was about to turn over to Carmen to ask him if he was free tomorrow night, a loud thump was heard inside the restaurant followed by a crash. Next came the screaming. Y/n and Carmen stood up and looked inside the window to see what got Richie to rush inside.

“Shit” Carmen exclaimed before running inside to stop the groomsmen from fighting. A wave of women ran out. Y/n didn’t go inside till the noise died down, she knew she would just get in the way. She pushed the door open and saw some guy laying on the ground with a bloody head. She scrambled to find a towel from the counter and then applied pressure on his head. Carmen had already called 911 and Richie was just staring with his eyes wide and hand on his head. 

The next few hours were a blur. The ambulance picked up the guy that was knocked out. The police came and took Richie, and everyone else was either taken by police for questioning or they left for the cops to get there. 

Y/n and Carmen were the only ones left standing on the pavement with little to no energy left. It felt like their bones were the only things holding them upright. Y/n didn’t have the energy to fill the empty space. So the trick to shutting her mouth was being tired, she could save herself from a lifetime of embarrassment by working herself to the bone so she wouldn’t have the energy to make a fool of herself. 

She started snickering which slowly devolved to full laughter, she held on to Carmen’s arm to steady herself. Y/n from 5 hours ago would never have touched Carmen under any circumstances unless he initiated it first but she was losing it. She was starting to feel light, like this wasn’t real. Like she didn’t see Richie bash some fucker’s skull in. Or that she spent the last few hours flirting with her boss just for nothing to come from it. Carmen could only just watch. 

“Let's get you home.” Carmen slowly ushered her towards his car. 

Y/n laughter died down. “I can’t go home, not with Richie in jail.” 

“You need some sleep” 

“And you don’t? Where are you going after this? Visiting Richie?” Carmen didn’t reply or look up at her.

Y/n went back inside, grabbed her black jacket and ran as fast as her shitty heels and blisters would let her. 

"I'm ready," y/n exclaimed with determination, taking confident strides towards Carmen's car. Carmen watched, momentarily transfixed and still processing the whirlwind of the past few hours. Y/n had laughed heartily as a coping mechanism, but inside, Carmen felt a deep sense of anguish, fearing the possibility of losing yet another loved one. He yearned to join in the laughter, knowing he couldn't do it without y/n by his side. Shaking off his thoughts, he quickly jogged over to where y/n stood, matching her pace as they proceeded towards the car together.

The car ride was silent, as both of them were fighting the urge to sleep. They got to the police station and y/n was so out of it she barely understood what groomsman status was and what would happen to Richie when the police officer explained it to her and Carmen. They were led to a seating area where they had to wait. Carmen threw his body on the bench and y/n followed suit. It was chilly and Carmen was wearing a shirt, so she slowly slipped off the jacket to hand it over. She felt firm pressure on her shoulders preventing her from bringing the jacket down.

“Keep it on, it's cold here” Carmen muttered. 

“I have a jacket” 

“It's too light.” Carmen’s eyes were drooping. Y/n sat back on the bench and tried to sleep sitting down but it wasn’t working. Carmen’s eyes were already closed so she shifted on the bench and laid her head on his lap. 

Once Carmen had confirmed she was fully asleep, he draped her thin black jacket over her legs and floated into unconsciousness. 

Carmen was shaken awake and woke up in a jolt. He eye’s meet Richie’s and it felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. 

“Aggravated Assault.” 

Carmen let go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

Carmen wanted to get up but he saw that y/n was laying on his lap. He gently slipped out from under her and carried her on his back to his car. He did his very best to ignore everytime that she dug her face deeper into his neck but he was still beet red when he gently placed her in the backseat and put her seatbelt on. 

Richie watched but didn’t have any motivation to say anything but a simple, “You got yourself a girlfriend, Carmy?”

“We’ll see when she wakes up.” 

--

Part 2

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmy x you #carmy #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #the bear #the bear fic #carmen berzatto x y/n #carmen carmy berzatto #the bear x reader #the bear hulu #the bear imagine #carmen berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto imagine #jeremy allen white #jeremy allen white imagine

[perlelune]

Oblivion | Paul Atreides

There used to be beginnings and ends, nights and days, dream and reality, before the haze took over, swallowing every thought, every memory, every whisper of free will.

Warnings: NON-CON, Fremen Reader, Kynes!Reader, Mind Control, Memory Manipulation, Padishah Emperor Paul, Loss of Identity, Brainwashing, Mentions of war and religious fanaticism

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

Muad’Dib leads the way. 

It is what the prophecy dictates. That he is the voice from the Outer World. The one who will lead your people to paradise. The one who will turn Dune’s arid desert lands into bountiful, endless green fields. 

But as your eyes rest on him, you do not see the chosen one. You do not see the Lisan Al-Ghaib. You see your friend Paul, broken, lost, his heart shattered into a million pieces due to your cousin’s absence. 

He sits at the head of his bed, shadows fluttering across his delicate features from the glowglobes’ dull orange light. Wide black rings surround his sunken blue eyes, the result of his daily consumption of spice melange. Lank, greasy brown curls hang around his handsome face. A pang twists your chest. He hasn’t slept in days, has barely gotten a full night of replenishing sleep since she left on a maker’s back.

You cannot blame your cousin. Paul’s ascendency to the Golden Lion throne came at a cost. A hefty one. Promises were broken. Trust was destroyed. Only time will repair the damage that was done. Though you carry faith the two of them will find their way back to each other. 

You stir the spice-coffee in the pot, straining the shimmering dark powder before pouring some in a cup. A spicy cinnamon smell coats the cool night air. 

You rise and bring the cup to him.

“For you, Usul.”

A soft smile blooms on his lips as he takes a slow, weary sip.

“You make it so well,” he praises.

You glow at the compliment, returning his smile. Your grandmother used to show you and Chani how to blend coffee beans with spice and herbs. The knowledge never left you. Now, every time you feel troubled or upset, you make a fresh kettleful. A single sip of the familiar brew is enough to alleviate your frazzled nerves. Especially here, so far away from Sietch Tabr, between the strange stone walls of the Arrakeen Keep, you have craved little reminders of home more than ever before.

Fremen belong in the desert, not in peculiar tents made of marble and stone.

Paul’s brows crumple as he studies you. 

“You don’t have to take care of me,” he says.

“I can get another Fremen-”

His fingers latch around your wrist, desperation sizzling under his touch. 

“I prefer it to be you.” He sighs. A bone deep fatigue radiates from the sound. You halt in your tracks. You suppose you could stay a while longer. “Please, stay, your presence soothes me.”

You nod. “I’ll stay, Muad’Dib.”

Relief falls over his features. 

The doors suddenly open, the guards stepping aside to let Stilgar in. He bows to Paul.

“Lisan Al-Ghaib…”

Your friend’s mouth flattens into a thin line. 

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

Stilgar acquiesces. He will never stop addressing Paul with reverence and admiration. None of his followers believes in him more. At times, it scares you a little. While you share the same faith, the fervor with which every Fedaykin is willing to lay their swords in his name can be frightening. Sometimes you wonder if Chani was right. How much will it take to liberate your world? How much blood will require spilling? You’re not completely naive. No war was ever won without a few casualties. Still, part of you hopes the war will end soon and peaceful times will come.

“No sign of her?” Paul asks. 

A contrite expression tugs the older man’s face.

“Apologies, my liege. We scouted the Southern regions this time. We couldn’t find her. She knows the desert well. It is home to us Fremen. She will not be found…”

“...Unless she wants to be found,” you finish, grabbing the empty cup from Paul’s hands and placing it back on the table.

The faint embers of hope in Paul’s cobalt gaze flicker out. Your heart sinks, for both you and him. Though you do not wish to burden him, you miss your cousin too. Her practicality and common sense. Her strength. Without her, a piece of you is missing. A crucial one. Your mother died in childbirth and your father in battle, so both of you grew up together, close enough in age to share secrets and play together for most of your childhood. 

It was Chani who taught you how to summon a worm and ride upon its back for the first time. She is the sister tragic circumstances blessed you with.

Stilgar apologizes profusely once more before taking his leave.

As soon as he’s gone, Paul’s shoulders slump.

“She hates me.” 

You crouch beside him.

“She doesn’t hate you. She never could. She is your quiet in the storm, and you are hers. She will return when she is ready.”

A wry laugh escapes his lips. 

“I have Irulan, my beloved wife, who is likely plotting my demise as we speak. Qizarate missionaries pressing me to take action and purge the non-believers on Aldinor. I am surrounded by foes, everywhere I look.” That distant expression he gets whenever his visions haunt him touches his face. “Blades pointed at my neck at all times, waiting for a sign of weakness to strike.”

You grab his hand, reassuring him, “You also have friends, Usul, who believe in your cause.”

“Fanatics,” he corrects bitterly. 

Your chest swells with worry. You don’t like it when he questions himself as such. His cause is right. He freed Arrakis from the Harkonnen’s iron-fisted rule. He will bring peace to every world in the universe. It is written. It’s the only path forward.

“You are not alone.” His fingers squeeze around yours. Warmth rushes to your face, the realization that you’re awfully close to the Emperor striking you. You adjust the nezhoni scarf covering your hair and rise. “I shall let you rest, my Lord.”

“Stay, please.”

His tone is beseeching. Your gaze swings to the window. There, moon beams pierce through the colorful glass, scattering rainbow splashes of light across the floor. Vibrant stars pepper the dark sky, pearls lost in a sea of ink. It’s pitch black outside. You should be in your own room. Not his.

“Muad’Dib, it’s late…”

His grip on your hand tightens. When he speaks again, his tone is different. Disembodied. Powerful. Its tantalizing echo drips inside your head like honey. 

“Stay,” he mumbles. You plop down on the bed, your body moving on its own, driven by the strange, irresistible thrall of Paul’s voice.

“Usul…” 

He cups your cheeks. 

“Sleep beside me tonight.”

“I’m not her.”

“I don’t want you to be.”

“She should be with me and she isn’t. But you are.” His inflection becomes soft and inviting as he drinks you in. As if he were lumbering through the desert, parched and desperate, and you were a well overflowing with fresh water. “You are beautiful. I never noticed before.” He pauses, tracing your bottom lip. “Perhaps I should have.”

You blink, dazed. When did Paul’s face get so close to yours? You can outline each of his long lashes, the speckles of green lingering in his blue eyes. 

“Paul-”

His mouth grazes yours, his thumb stroking your cheeks. It only lasts a few seconds. The warm plushness of his lips on yours yanks you back to reality. You gasp and flinch back. When you recoil, his silky tone fills your ears once more.

“Don’t fight it. You love me, remember?”

A confused whisper slips through your lips. Two parts of your mind wrestle with Paul’s words. 

“I do?”

His eyes dive into yours.

“Of course, you do.”

“Of course I do,” you repeat, his tone nudging aside the doubts lurking inside your mind. 

A bright smile unfurls on his lips, his lids sagging to half-mast.

“It’s like you said before. You are my quiet in the storm and I am yours.”

Right. You uttered those very same words. How could you forget?

You are Paul’s quiet in the storm. He is yours.

His mouth covers yours. It moves slowly against your own. He explores your mouth as he cradles your face. His long lashes fall over his cheekbones as he loses himself in your taste. He hums against your lips, gentle fingers touching your face. You don’t move, eyes half-open as you let it happen. It’s foreign, the sensation of Paul’s lips on yours. Foreign and strange yet you can’t help but numbly accept it. 

Once he frees your lips, he rests his forehead against yours. 

“Come into my arms, my love,” he says.

You don’t resist as he pulls you into his embrace, nudging you onto the bed. Soft strands of Paul’s brown mane brush against your cheek as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your spice-coated scent. 

His arms circle your waist. Your back melds against his chest, the warmth of your bodies mingling through the thin layers of your clothes. 

“You smell so good,” he mutters. Your scarf shifts when he rubs his face against it. “Don’t ever leave me.”

When you don’t reply, his tone gets firmer. “Promise it.”

The words roll off your tongue easily.

“I won’t ever leave you, Paul.”

Tension leaks out of his tightly coiled muscles. 

“Good,” he says, drifting off to sleep quickly with you nestled in his snug embrace. 

You fall asleep too, no thoughts in your head, Paul’s soft snores lulling you into peaceful slumber. 

You awake with a start, the stark unfamiliarity of the palatial chambers you find yourself in causing your pulse to soar. Your eyes dart about the room. Recognition hits you. These are the Emperor’s apartments.

Your eyes grow wide. You’re not supposed to be here. Panic sets in.

“W-What am I doing here?”

Paul’s quiet voice flows across your back.

“Calm down.”

“No. I shouldn’t be here…”

You start crawling off the bed but Paul’s fingers around your wrist impede your departure. 

He holds your face, vibrant blue eyes locking with yours. You find yourself incapable of looking away, ensnared by his unflinching focus.

“I said, Calm down.”

The alarms ringing inside your head fall quiet. You lean into Paul’s touch. What were you doing? What were you thinking? Every thought you attempt to grasp at evaporates in the heat of Muad’Dib’s stare. 

“There. Much better,” he coos, satisfaction hovering on his handsome face. His voice sinks into a sensual whisper. “Why don’t you kneel for me?”

You do as he instructs. Then all fades to black as quicksands of confusion engulf your thoughts. 

When you return to yourself, you aren’t on the bed anymore, but on your knees on the carpeted floor. 

Paul is looming over you, grunting, his throat bobbing. One of his hands is curled around your nape while the other is under your jaw. 

You note the saltiness coating your tongue, the drool on your chin, the soreness in the back of your throat. 

You choke on his length, air wavering inside your lungs. 

Paul’s cock is in your mouth. 

The sick, awful realization tumbles over you like a bag of stones. 

Muffled moans leave you as you lift pleading eyes towards him.

You place your hands on his thighs, shoving with all your strength. 

Paul doesn’t let you move. He cradles your face and thrusts inside your mouth until his balls are pressed into your chin. 

Clouds of lust obscure his gaze as it falls upon you. 

He caresses your face, dragging his cock out before pushing it inside your mouth again. Gurgled sounds leave your throat. Tears skip down your cheeks and you wonder when you’ve started crying. 

Fremen do not cry. Ever. Even for the dead. It is a rare, sacred act.

Paul wipes them off your face with his thumbs. 

“You love me. It is what lovers do,” he says matter-of-factly.

Your body relaxes. 

Right. Of course. You love him. It is what lovers do. 

You hollow your cheeks and suck him off. He unleashes a throaty sigh of delight as you pleasure him with your mouth. 

When his seed drips down your tongue, he coaxes you not to waste a single drop. You swallow all of it, showing no resistance when he nudges a stray drop between your wet lips. 

Several days in a row, you awake in the emperor’s chambers. At first, you experience great confusion. However, Paul’s soothing words always quell your rising panic. It becomes all you know. The Emperor’s mesmerizing voice. His large, soft bed. His ceaseless, ravenous touch. 

Sweaty, tangled limbs melting in lewd harmony.

You stop questioning it. Even the strange lapses of time when you are in one room and mysteriously wind up in another. It isn’t rare for you to wake up with the Emperor’s head bobbing between your thighs, greedily lapping at your folds, or with your hips grinding into his as he impales you on his cock. 

It is where you belong. And you believe him when he says that, mumbling loving promises into your ear in the dead of night.

“If we do not strike fast and hard, they will not accept your rule,” Stilgar says. 

“They worship a false god. We are doing them a favor,” another man sitting at the table interjects. 

A shaky exhale flows from your tongue. You look around, dismay filling you when you realize you’re in Paul’s war room amidst a council meeting. Your head throbs. How did you get here?

You rise from your chair. Bemused gazes land on you. 

Princess Irulan snickers from her seat.

“Husband, your concubine is acting strange,” she sneers.

Concubine? You step away from the table.

You blink several times as you stumble outside. You grip your temples, your forehead scrunching. That cannot be right. Is it? 

You are no one’s concubine. 

You are…

You are…

Adrenaline pumps through your blood as your head buzzes. 

The answer will not come, your mind keeping it under firm lock and key.

Frustration mounts within you. You blindly waddle around.

You end up in a room that bears vague familiarity. You lean against a basin full of water. Water…just lying around. That seems strange.

Your eyes land on a mirror on the opposite wall. The reflection in the glass has your heart rate spiking. Who is this?

You bolt to your feet, the water in the basin splashing around your feet. 

Your tremulous fingers rise to your face, horror filling you when the woman in the mirror mimicks your exact motions. 

Your gaze travels across the wide, open space. Quick breaths rush from your throat. The Emperor’s room. Why did you think it was your room? 

You stagger backwards. You gasp as you bump into a solid form.

You whirl, eyes widening.

“Paul.”

He gauges you, slight concern etched in his blue eyes. Relief fills you as you soak in his boyish, slender features, much more familiar than those of the stranger in the mirror. 

You know Paul. Muad’Dib. Paul is familiar, safe. You trust him. He will tell you who you are.

“Yes, my love?”

“Paul, who am I?”

A displeased frown settles on his brow. He approaches you and grabs your face. His expression hardens.

“You are mine. Nothing else matters.”

“But Paul-”

Your protests are stifled by the feverish press of his lips on yours. A fog surrounds your thoughts as his kiss grows more passionate, his hands sweeping over your curves. You place your hand on his chest, pushing feebly.  

“Forget it. Forget it all, beloved,” he mumbles against your lips. You sag against him. You drown in Paul’s blue eyes, time stretching beyond eternity. 

When you gain a semblance of awareness, your naked form is writhing above Paul’s. Your palms are spread over his lithe muscles, your hips moving as he slams his cock into your cunt repetitively. Paul bites his lip, his gaze glued to the sight of his length disappearing between your wet folds. 

When did you get on the bed? When did you shed your clothes?

Every inquiry melts in the heat swirling across your damp flesh. 

Your lashes flutter as you unleash a broken whimper, Paul’s hard length touching you in places that send electricity rippling through your spine.

You tighten around him and he purrs. 

“Remember nothing but my name,” he rasps, clutching your hips possessively. He impales you on his length, thrusting faster. You choke on your breath, his quickening pace driving you wild.

You brace yourself on his chest and lose yourself in the pleasure, your breath hitching each time he pounds into you.

The filthy sounds of your coupling fill the room, bouncing off the stone walls. Paul’s deep, animalistic moans. Your soft, desperate whimpers. The blunt, wet sounds your cunt makes as he buries himself inside you. The bed rattling and squeaking under your writhing forms.

“Paul, Paul…” you pant as you bounce on his cock. An intensity ignites his eyes as his name falls from your tongue like a prayer. You toss your head back, voice dying in your throat as another wave of pleasure crashes over you. Your toes flex. You tremble, your body jolting as your slick walls flutter around his length. A husky moan leaves him. He twitches inside you. His back lifts from the sheets, his body tensing as he hits his peak too. Slick warmth spills from his tip, glazing your walls. 

An errant sliver of panic lurks inside your brain. Your eyes bulge as you glance down at where your body and Paul’s are conjoined. Rapid breaths burst from your chest.

Seeming to sense your distress, he shoves your hips back down when you try to squirm away.

His authoritative voice booms across the room, unnatural, multiplied. Everywhere at once. 

“Do not move, beloved. Let me fill you up. Make you mine in every way.”

Your breaths settle down. Your worries disappear. You look into Paul’s loving gaze. A smile unfans on his lips as you ride him with abandon again.

“What are you doing?”

You pivot at the abrupt sound of Paul’s voice. You pause above the bag you’re packing. You peer at him, mulling over an appropriate answer to his question. You do not find one. You only know that you stirred awake that morning, feeling strange, sore…Lost. The urge to collect your meager belongings and leave the Arrakeen Keep seared inside you since then. A hollow, distant voice rings inside your head.

Return to Sietch Tabr.

“I have to go. Something…Something isn’t feeling right.”

The muscles of Paul’s jaw flare, his tone as ice as he states, “You want to leave me.”

Discarding your bag, you rush to him. You take his hands in yours.

“No. I made you a promise. I just need time to think…I can’t think anymore, Paul.”

It’s true. Every day feels like trudging through a Coriolis storm, your thoughts scattering as dust in the wind the minute they form.

Everything that was solid before is now sand slipping through your fingers.

Paul’s gaze corrals yours.

“You don’t need to,” he says, gripping your face. His tone dips to a soft lilt that penetrates your senses. “Who are you?”

You search his eyes. A breeze blows away every single doubt you had.

The answer to every inquiry you had is right there. In Paul’s fond stare.

The persistent little voice in your head, that pesky plea begging to be heard suddenly falls quiet. The truth echoes in your head, Paul’s powerful voice filling your mind.

You are right where you belong. 

“I’m yours,” you utter with certainty.

His face softens. “That is correct, my love,” he says, stroking your cheek.

“Now, why don’t you settle down, beloved?” You let him escort you to the bed, coaxing you to take a seat on the sheets. “Agitating yourself as such isn’t good for you.”

He sinks to the floor and drops a gentle kiss over your round belly.

“And it’s not good for the baby either.”

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